


Two Degrees of Separation

by LB0917



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band), Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Don't Judge Me, Harry Styles Crossover, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pentatonix deserves more, They would be hot together, adore you, falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 41,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB0917/pseuds/LB0917
Summary: Who is this man who seems to know everyone? Harry isn't sure......But he wants to know him.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Scott Hoying
Comments: 17
Kudos: 26





	1. And You Are...?

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Am I the first to dive into a Harry Styles/Pentatonix crossover? Will anyone even read this? Do Harry Styles fans even know who Scott Hoying is? I have no answers for you, other than that they are really missing out if they don't...
> 
> This came to mind back when Todrick Hall showed up to some awards show with Taylor Swift last year. Got the old brain wheels turning. Please let me know if you like it, and if I should continue!

Scott looked around the massive hall. He took a minute to admire the beautiful people around him, reveling in the fact that he was even allowed to _be there._ He leaned up against the bar, taking in the sight of his friends. Kirstie and Kevin were talking to Kelly Clarkson. Matt and Mitch were laughing with _Justin Fucking Timberlake._

He was so very thankful in that moment as he looked around at all of the tuxedos and gowns. They had made it, again. Their fourth Grammy nod was now in the books. It was surreal. He didn’t even care if they won tomorrow (Though it _would_ be incredible to go four-for-four). He just hoped to God that he was blending in at this pre-party as much as his friends clearly were.

He stopped at that thought. He must have looked crazy, propped up against the bar by himself, staring at people. He shook the warm feeling away as the bar tender asked for his drink order. He ordered with a friendly smile and returned to looking around the room.

Just when he thought the moment was absolutely perfect, she walked in.

Taylor Swift glided through the door like she was the guest of honor. Her dress was bigger than her entourage, and _that_ was saying something.

Scott had no problem with Taylor, at all. In fact, they had met several times now. She was nothing but nice to him, albeit a bit rigid.

It was the person by her side that made Scott want to hide behind the bar.

Todrick Hall looked as much like this party was meant for him as Taylor did. Scott scoffed to himself at that thought. He would love to know if a single person in here even knew Tod’s name. Todrick’s grin as he attempted to make eye contact with everyone in the room made Scott nauseous. His eyes narrowed at his ex-friend.

“My thoughts exactly,” a low, British accent said, sounding like velvet. Scott’s head snapped to the right, making eye contact with the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. Scott’s heart stopped. He had to recover from the fact that he was clearly stunned.

“I’m sorry?” Scott asked, crinkling his nose. “I know Harry Styles can’t be talking to me,” Scott looked over his shoulder, dramatically checking for anyone behind him. Harry laughed. Scott died a little.

“He is, though,” Harry said, taking a few steps closer, leaning against the bar next to Scott, whiskey in hand. “I saw you… admiring… Taylor.”

“Oh, no… no I wasn’t.” Scott said, raising his hands in defeat, slightly panicked. He wasn’t sure if Harry and Taylor were working on rekindling something, and he certainly didn’t want Harry to think he was interested in her. Can you imagine getting in a fist fight with Harry Styles? And over a woman?

Harry laughed again. Oh, God. Was Harry crazy? Scott had never heard anything of the sort. He was told Harry was one of the most down-to-earth singers in the industry, in fact.

Of course, Scott _would_ find a way to piss off someone like that.

“You look terrified, you poor thing. I was just kidding. I saw you look at Taylor’s group roll in and you looked like you wanted to fight them. They can be a bit much, so I feel your pain.” Scott tried to focus on Harry’s words as he spoke, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how his voice literally sounded like _honey._ How something can sound like a silent object, Scott couldn’t tell you, but he could listen to it all night.

“Oh. Um… yeah.” Scott scratched the back of his neck, nervously now. “It’s not her, it’s Todrick, the guy next to her. We kind of have a not-so-great history. I didn’t expect to see him tonight.”

“Ah, yes, Todrick. The one strutting his stuff like a goddamn peacock?” Harry’s tone was even, almost sounding bored, but he spoke with a slight smirk on his face.

“That’s absolutely the one.”

“He looks like an absolute dickhead. Is he a dickhead?”

It was Scott’s turn to laugh now. He wasn’t typically one to call people names, but he was amazed with the fact that even the word “dickhead” sounded sexy coming from this man.

“He’s a little bit of a dickhead. But the real problem is that he thinks _I’m_ the dickhead.”

“Ah, shit. Are you a dickhead?”

“I don’t think so?” As Scott said this, he caught the eye of Lauren Jauregui. She waved excitedly at him, and he smiled and waved back.

“Okay… Well clearly, I am.” Harry said, sounding apologetic. Scott was confused.

“How so?”

“I have not even the slightest idea who you are. I assumed you were here as someone’s date, but between the fact that you know Taylor’s entourage and that you’re waving at Fifth Harmony like they’re your best mates, I’m clearly a jerk, here.” Scott was amazed with the fact that though there was a slight tone of joking in Harry’s voice, he looked sincerely sorry that he didn’t know who Scott was.

_Damn, the guy is humble, too._

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m not really anybody. You’re not missing anything.” Scott laughed with this comment. Harry looked serious.

“Don’t say that. Are you nominated?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing. Have you been before?”

“Well, yeah.” Scott could feel himself blushing now.

“Wow. Have you ever won?”

Scott held up three fingers, quietly, smirking.

“Oh God, I’M the dickhead!”

They were both laughing now. This conversation would typically be extremely awkward, but Harry made it easy.

“You have to be a songwriter,” Harry continued, searching Scott’s face for confirmation. Scott couldn’t leave the poor man dangling any longer. He held out his hand for a handshake.

“How about this? Hi, I’m Scott Hoying. I’m here with my A Capella group, Pentatonix.”

Harry took the outstretched hand, blushing. It was adorable, but Scott couldn’t help but wonder why.

“I totally know Pentatonix. I’m so sorry.” He sounded truly embarrassed. It was so damn endearing. “It’s really nice to meet you, Scott.”

Scott smiled back, crying inside as their handshake ended and their hands became unclasped. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Harry. If I hadn’t already called you by your name, I would pretend not to know you, either… But then I think you would think I was either a mental patient or a hermit.”

“Hey, in my defense, I don’t think you guys have ever covered any of my songs.”

Scott thought about that for a moment. How was that even possible? Not even a 1D medley song intermixed in a medley?

“We only cover songs we can do justice.” Scott replied, smirking. He was damn proud of how smooth that compliment sounded.

Harry blushed again. Scott made Harry blush _twice_ now.

“Hi, Harry,” a bored, high-pitched drawl said over Scott’s shoulder, disturbing the extremely pleasant conversation that was taking place. Scott turned to look at Taylor. Her eyes widened suddenly when she noticed him. “Oh my God, Scott. Hi!” She grabbed at him and pulled him into a hug, rocking them back and forth on their feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the look of surprise gracing Harry’s face.

Scott awkwardly patted her back, looking over her shoulder to see Todrick in the distance. Todrick looked like he was stabbing Scott repeatedly in his mind. He let her go, equally as awkwardly as he had embraced her.

“How do you two know each other?” She asked, feigning friendliness. Scott could feel her animosity towards Harry in that moment. Scott opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by a hand clapping him on the shoulder.

“Scottie and I go way back, actually,” Harry exclaimed. Taylor looked confused.

“Really?” She asked, looking dubiously at Scott.

“Oh, yeah,” Scott started. “We met a few years ago. Good friends. Great, actually.” Well, that sounded weird.

Scott’s shoulder was burning where Harry’s hand now rested. He was actually starting to feel a bit dizzy from the contact.

“Yeah, Scott and I are writing a few songs together, actually.” Harry chimed in, happily. Scott did his very best to maintain his composure. Harry’s hand was now squeezing the back of Scott’s neck and he might actually _melt._

Taylor turned towards Todrick and gestured for him to come closer. Scott could see him actually groan in the distance before ambling over. Scott couldn’t ignore the fact that Harry actually got closer to Scott in this moment, almost protectively. His hand was still gently resting on the back of his neck. He prayed his hand wasn’t covered in Scott’s nervous neck sweat.

“Hey, loves!” Todrick announced as he approached them. He looked back and forth from Taylor to Harry, completely ignoring Scott. “Harry Styles, it is so nice to finally meet you. Huge fan. Taylor’s doing so great these days, don’t you think?”

Harry looked at him like he had three heads. Scott tried desperately to keep a straight face.

“She looks lovely tonight,” Harry replied, and Scott was filled with disappointment. He had to laugh at himself, then. What, did he think he ever had a chance?

“And who are you?” Harry asked Todrick. He sounded bored, again, and Scott adored him for that.

“Oh,” Todrick replied, sounding embarrassed. “I’m Todrick Hall. I am a choreographer, singer, actor, and most importantly, I am this queen’s best friend.” He hugged Taylor closer to him.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Harry said, smiling in a way that screamed, “I don’t care.”

Harry could clearly feel Scott’s tense muscles underneath his hand. He squeezed him again, softly. “This is Scott,” Harry said, reaching up to place his hand on Scott’s chest, patting him there. “Scott and I are pretty close these days, too.”

“They’re writing songs together,” Taylor added, sounding annoyed. It was then that Scott realized that Todrick had poisoned her mind against him. This made him livid.

“How did you meet?” Todrick asked, his voice pleasant, but his eyes narrowed.

“A party a few years ago. I couldn’t stay away. I heard him laughing with a friend of mine, and I couldn’t help but introduce myself. The rest is history.” Harry replied, looking into Scott’s eyes, playfully. “I guess you could say I had a bit of a crush.” He added, smirking.

“Yeah, okay.” Scott snorted. At least Harry could have made it more believable if he was trying to help.

“It’s true, you are kind of captivating, you know,” Harry said. Scott commended him on his acting ability in that moment. He almost believed him.

“Well, uh, it was nice to meet you, Harry and… Steve, was it?” Todrick said, and Scott felt a sharp pain in his chest. They may not be close anymore, but Scott knew he didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

“Scott.” Harry interjected, coldly. Scott glanced into Harry’s eyes. They looked almost possessive, as if daring Todrick to disrespect Scott again.

“Right, Scott.” Todrick replied, smirking. “Good luck tomorrow, _Harry._ I hope you win.” With that, they were gone. Only then did Scott realize that Harry’s hand had tightened at the back of his neck, his agitation evident in his hold.

Harry’s hand left Scott’s body and he felt an instant emptiness where his hand had rested.

“Dickhead, indeed,” Harry offered, eyes kind again. They laughed together at that. Scott didn’t miss the look of concern on Harry’s face as Scott made every effort to erase the hurt expression from his own.

“Need another drink, _old friend_?” Scott finally asked, shaking off the feeling.

“Don’t mind if I do, gorgeous,” Harry replied. It felt like there were butterflies in Scott’s stomach… but like those butterflies were on crack.

_**A/N: This story will flip back and forth to reflect the POV of Scott and Harry, so the next chapter will give you a bit of insight into what Harry is thinking. What do you think so far? Kudos and comments = Keep going. Dead silence = Go scratch. :D** _


	2. So Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm OBVIOUSLY rewriting history here, such as with the fact that Pentatonix is nominated for a fourth grammy (Because let's be honest, The Sound of Silence definitely deserved a nod). 
> 
> I hope you like! Please let me know if you do (or if you don't!)

Harry couldn’t sleep that night. He was still filled with a buzzing sensation, with the events of the evening running through his mind over and over again. He had been dreading that pre-party, knowing that he was going to run into Taylor there, as well as a million other celebrities with whom he had no interest in spending his time.

He thought back to the piercing blue eyes that he had found leaning against the bar. His heart fluttered.

He was thankful that he obviously came off as more confident than he felt. Talking to Scott had been extremely easy as the night wore on. Scott was confident, but not annoyingly so. He wasn’t pandering to Harry, trying to please him with every word he said. That had been very refreshing. And he was so _funny_.

To be honest, Harry continued to find reasons to find Scott in the crowd again after their drink together. Harry now knew each member of Pentatonix quite well, thank you very much, and Scott was quite the hit with Liam and Niall, who were also in attendance that evening.

And if Harry’s lips had lingered on Scott’s cheek for a touch too long as they said goodbye later in the night, that’s neither here nor there.

 _Shit._ Harry suddenly thought. _I never got his number._

Harry was pretty sure that he received not a wink of sleep that night.

If Harry was dreading the pre-party last night, magnify that times one thousand to understand his disdain for red carpets. He tried to look as pleasant as possible, but his lack of sleep certainly wasn’t helping.

What _did_ help was the appearance of a tall, thin frame with blond hair that made its way out of a limousine in the distance as Harry became blinded by the millionth flash of the evening. Harry couldn’t help but stare as Scott straightened his suit jacket while he waited for his bandmates to exit the car behind him. He looked incredible.

Harry didn’t realize exactly when it was that his smile had become massive and likely downright comical to everyone around him, but there he was, beaming at the cameras like a kid in a candy shop.

How embarrassing.

Somehow, he didn’t care.

No matter where he went, it seemed like the only person he had any interest in speaking to was on the other side of a sea of people. After his eighth interview, Harry was becoming tired of being hopeful to run into him.

Just as he was talking to his manager, a light tap on his shoulder reignited that hope.

“Oh, hey Nialler.” Harry said, attempting to sound as happy as possible to see him. Niall knew better.

“Wow, don’t sound too excited there,” Niall answered with a kind smile. “Who were you hoping it was, eh?”

“What do you mean? I’m always happy to see you, mate.” Harry smiled at his manager as he excused himself from the conversation.

“The look on your face says differently, my friend.” Okay, now Niall was teasing him. “Looking for someone a bit taller than me?”

Harry felt his cheeks flush. “What?”

“Oh c’mon, Harry. I’m seen you smitten a few times. I know what it looks like.” He was talking softly now, so those around them couldn’t hear. “You looked like you wanted to propose to Scott Hoying right then and there, last night.” He leaned in closer. “He’s behind you, you know.”

Harry snapped his head around so quickly he could have sworn he gave himself whiplash. All he could see was Billie Eilish and her brother, chatting casually with an interviewer. He heard an all-too familiar snicker, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Not cool, Niall.”

“Come on, Haz. I’m very cool.”

The rest of the red carpet had gone pretty much the same. No matter how hard he tried to make his way casually over to the group, it seemed they were swept away from him every time. Sighing, Harry spun on his heels, and ran right into a petite frame.

“Oof. God, Sorry, Harry.” Mitch said, absently fixing his blouse beneath his jacket.

“Mitch! I’m so sorry, that was entirely my fault.” Mitch’s eyes met his, kindly.

“Guess we’re both klutzes,” Mitch shrugged. “Having a good time? You look… wow.”

Harry blushed, hoping this man’s best friend would feel the same way. “Not really. I hate these things.”

“Really?”

“God, yes. I feel like an ape at the zoo.”

Mitch laughed. “Dance, monkey! Well… good luck tonight. I really hope you take the big ones home. You’re performing tonight as well, right?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Looking forward to it. We all are. And hey, thanks for being so nice to us last night. It was cool to be included for once… we’re kind of always on the outskirts of these things. No one really takes us seriously.” Harry never hated the music industry more in his career than when he heard those words.

“Oh, and thanks for what you did for Scott, too.”

Harry’s ears perked up with the use of the name. “Scott? What did I do?”

“He said you pretty much saved him from Todrick Hall. He said you were amazing. Lied for him and everything. Scott said he almost cried when the guy walked in the room, but you fixed it instantly.” Harry felt a warm tug at his heartstrings.

“It was mutual. He saved me from Taylor Swift just by being there next to me.” They laughed, lightly. “Good luck to you guys tonight, too. I hope you get your number four in the books.”

He wished he could follow Mitch back to his group. The lights dimmed for a moment, and Harry knew there was no time for that. It was time for the show to start.

“We have an extremely exciting show for you all tonight,” Alicia Keys’ voice rang out over the cheering of the crowd. “We have some amazing performances of our nominated songs tonight for you. Ariana Grande.” She paused as the crowd became louder. “Harry Styles.” The crowd swelled again, and Harry couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He would never get used to that. “Blake Shelton, Pentatonix, Dua Lipa – “ she continued to rattle off names but Harry froze in place, hearing nothing further.

They were performing tonight? Why didn’t he know that?

Harry spent the next twenty minutes trying to inconspicuously scour the room for some blond hair sticking out of the crowd. He found himself letting go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when his eyes landed on his target, to his right and a few rows back. Now that he knew where he was, Harry felt like he could sit back and enjoy the show. He was also happy to see that he had an aisle seat, with Mitch to his left.

 _Good, he doesn’t have a date._ Harry thought. _Shit, unless Mitch **is** his date…_

He shook that thought from his mind and allowed himself to relax next to his two best friends as the show went on. He was thankful that Niall and Liam were there as presenters with him.

“Up next is one of my favorite acts of the year, and not just because they were part of the inspiration for one of my most successful movies,” Anna Kendrick began, and paused for the crowd’s laughter. “Performing their arrangement of _The Sound of Silence,_ which is nominated for their fourth Grammy tonight for Best Arrangement, Instrumental or A Capella, please give it up for Pentatonix!”

Harry felt his heart begin to race. He wasn’t sure why; it was like he was nervous for them. Or maybe he was excited because it was his first time really listening to Scott sing. The stage was dark. Then, one spotlight emerged, as Scott stood on the stage, alone.

“Hello darkness, my old friend…”

_Holy shit._

“I’ve come to talk with you again… because a vision softly creeping,”

Two more spotlights joined the first now, and Kirstie and Mitch joined with haunting notes.

“Left its seeds while I was sleeping.” Two more spotlights now, highlighting Matt and Kevin on each end.

“And the vision that was planted in my brain… still remains, within the sound of silence.”

Harry was mesmerized as Scott hit the final note of his part, the others harmonizing beautifully behind him. Damn, they were good. Scott’s voice was actually leaving him breathless.

“Whoa, did you know he sounded like that?” Liam asked, quietly. Harry hastily shushed him, not even caring how rude he sounded.

Harry felt himself getting lost in the rest of the performance, as Mitch, Matt, and Kirstie each stepped forward for their sections, baffled when he noticed Scott take the bass notes for Matt, and it was as if time stood still as he listened.

“And the people bowed and prayed to the neon God they made….” Scott belted, and Harry was stunned. His eyes never left the man in the middle of the stage, idolizing how beautifully lost in the song Scott was. He didn’t even realize it was over until the audience burst into applause around him, standing and cheering.

Pentatonix deserved the standing ovation, and Harry found himself feeling intense pride in that moment, even though he had only known them for 24 hours. He hoped this was the beginning of a change, and that other singers would begin to take them seriously. He clapped and cheered alongside them.

“And the Grammy goes to… Harry styles, Adore You!” an actress, whose name Harry couldn’t remember for the life of him, squealed a few minutes later. Harry, still coming down from the high of listening to the performance, shook his head in sincere surprise. The crowd around him laughed, affectionately, as he took his place on the stage.

As he spoke, he instinctively looked to where Scott had been sitting earlier. Scott’s seat, and the seats around it, were empty. Harry felt his heart drop. It would have been nice to look out and see him there.

He couldn’t even remember what he had said in his acceptance speech. It was as though he had been on autopilot. Harry always felt that way while accepting awards. At least with One Direction, he could let someone else speak on his behalf. He thanked everyone one last time and followed the poor actress (whose name he still couldn’t remember) off of the stage.

Now was the hard part: Interviews about the award from the few sources that they allow backstage. He was always on autopilot for this part, too. He finished his third in a row, and just wished they would let him _breathe,_ when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, ready to feign exuberance (he was excited to win, really, he ws, but the questions were always _so dumb_ ). To say that he was pleasantly surprised to see the source of the shoulder tap would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Congratulations! Wish we could have seen the speech,” Scott exclaimed, looking genuinely excited for Harry. His bandmates flanked both sides of him, looking equally as happy. Scott’s smile was warm and _so attractive._ Harry’s own smile broadened as he reached out to hug him, hating having to let him go so he could hug each of the others in turn.

“You guys are next, I’m sure,” Harry replied, unable to wipe the smile off of his face. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel this downright nervous.

“Ah, come on. We’re just excited to be here,” Kevin chimed in, smiling. “And we actually _mean that,_ I promise! This is unreal.”

“Come on. Your performance left everyone absolutely speechless.” Harry said, and he wasn’t lying. You could have heard a pin drop in there while they sang.

“And yours will, too,” Scott smiled. “And we are being glared at,” he added, lightly, looking over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned to see three interviewers, tapping their toes. “We’ll let you go. Maybe we’ll see you later. And break a leg!” Harry reached for Scott one more time before he could even register his own body’s movement. Scott looked pleasantly surprised, however, and embraced him one more time, before following the other four.

Harry felt instantly better about the events of the evening, thus far, and no longer felt dread when he thought of his upcoming performance.

**_Author's Note: I'd love to know who my audience is. Please feel free to comment and let me know which fandom you come from!_ **


	3. Adore You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Still rewriting history, folks! Sorry if that annoys or offends. Hopefully it doesn't!!

“I’m going to be quite honest with you, Niall. My feelings are downright hurt,” Liam announced into the microphone, pouting.

“Mine too, Liam, Mine too. I mean, why did Harry have to win a Grammy AFTER he ditched us?” The audience erupted in polite laughter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here to sing his Grammy-winning _Adore You,_ without _us,_ I might add, this is Harry Styles.”

Scott held his breath as Harry took the stage. Would he be fangirling during a Harry Styles performance on any occasion? You bet your ass, he would. Tonight was different, however. Scott’s fangirling was on another _level_ now that he had spent some time with the singer. He clapped along with the crowd happily as Harry took the stage.

Scott would give his left arm to be able to exude the stage presence that Harry Styles did. Harry strutted around the stage in his _sexy,_ bright red suit, the buttons of his blouse underneath undone, teasingly.

And his voice? Unbelievable. Unfair, even.

Scott hardly noticed Mitch lean in close until he heard his whispering voice. “Close your mouth,” Mitch said with a smirk. “You’re going to start drooling soon, and your suit is too expensive to ruin.”

Mitch deserved the slap on his chest that he received in response; Scott was sure of that. He realized that Mitch had actually been correct, however, and he hastily closed his mouth as Harry’s green eyes met his own.

“Did he just wink at you? God, he’s smooth.” Kirstie asked, excitedly. Scott suddenly couldn’t breathe.

In fact, he didn’t exhale again until Harry finished his song. The crowd cheered, and Scott attempted to maintain his composure as he stood and clapped alongside them, trying desperately not to faint.

Scott wouldn’t have been surprised if their award wasn’t even part of the ceremony. He would have been just as happy finding out if they won after the show. Unsure if there would be time for the award at all, he kept his expectations low as the next twenty minutes passed and he and Harry smiled at one another as Harry was ushered back to his seat.

“I’m here to announce a category that I personally feel is under-appreciated.” James Corden announced. “After watching Pentatonix tonight, I’m sure you all agree…” the crowd cheered, and Scott blushed immediately. “… that I should be the sixth member of their group. Hexatonix. Get it? What do you think, Scott Hoying? Am I in?”

A camera was in Scott’s face suddenly, and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or die of embarrassment. He smiled into the camera and lifted his hand, moving it back and forth in front of his throat and mouthing “No thanks.” The crowd laughed, and Scott instantly felt his blood pressure decrease at the positive response.

James Corden was still staring at him from the stage. Several seconds passed by, with James staring directly into Scott’s eyes. Scott fought the urge to laugh nervously, keeping his stare with a smirk on his face.

“Rude.” James finally said. “Anyway, these are the nominees for Best Arrangement, Instrumental or A Capella…” With that, Scott’s mind went blank. He felt Mitch grab his hand, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing to his head. It actually was maddening.

“Scott, honey, get up, we won.” Mitch whispered as the group stood. Scott was in shock, just like last time. Last time made more sense, considering they were paired with an absolute _icon,_ Dolly Parton. Scott felt like that win was more hers than theirs, but appreciated it immensely, nonetheless.

Scott’s eyes found Harry’s in an instant. Harry’s face was lit up and he looked genuinely ecstatic for them. He looked more excited for them than he had been for himself, in fact.

When they arrived on stage, Scott reached out for the award in James’ hand, but James snatched it away, cradling it in his arms. The crowd cheered with laughter again. Scott went to the microphone, cursing himself for agreeing to be the designated speaker for the group.

“Okay, Corden, Kirstie will fight you for it when we get backstage.” The crowd laughed, but Scott was only focused on the beautiful sight of Harry laughing. He felt a sense of pride in the fact that he had been the one to make that happen.

“We want to thank everyone for embracing Pentatonix more and more with every passing year. We know that we are often considered the ‘choir nerds’ of the industry, but we wear that badge with pride, I tell y’all.” He paused for the uproar of applause. His speech continued, and words spilled out of his mouth, but what they consisted of, Scott had no clue. For all he knew, he had accidentally spewed the words, “I love you, Harry Styles.”

Backstage, the five of them held each other close, soaking up the excitement of the moment with just each other, ignoring the flashing of cameras and their names being called. Looking up, Scott erupted into laughter when he saw that James had squeezed his way into the huddle.

“Hexatonix, Hexatonix, Hexatonix,” James chanted, looking at each member attempting to persuade them to join in. He cracked himself up, shook each of their hands, and posed for a few pictures with them.

Scott tried to immerse himself fully in every minute, but all he could think of was the proud look on Harry’s face in the audience, and his wink during his performance. Scott would have thought he had imagined that, if it hadn’t been for Kirstie’s comment.

Harry was either the kindest person on the planet, or for some strange reason, he was interested. Scott’s heart pounded at the thought.

In reality, Scott knew that he would probably never even see him again. Maybe they would share pleasantries at parties and award shows, but that would be it. Scott’s heart sank. His warm feeling was quickly replaced with self-doubt.

What if he had been misreading everything? Had he been annoying and overbearing last night? He wracked his brain trying to remember the events. Harry had approached him first. He couldn’t remember if he had continuously found Harry or vice-versa.

He felt humiliation at the thought of bombarding Harry after his award. What was he thinking? He had always been told that Harry was an absolute gentleman. Scott had seen firsthand Harry’s acting abilities as he came up with the story of how they met.

Harry probably thought he was some crazy, obsessive fan. Suddenly, the buzz of the group’s win was gone.

_If he had been interested in anything with you, he would have asked for your number last night._

He thought about the crowd around him in the audience.

_He could have been winking at anyone, you narcissist._

Scott refused to be an embarrassment anymore. He would stop trying to make eye contact for the rest of the show. He wouldn’t go looking for him as they leave the venue. He would be nothing but polite and professional if they end up running into each other. And then, after this, they would go their separate ways.

I mean, who did he think he was?

**A/N: Gonna post another chapter, as well, since this one was a bit short. Let me know what you think!**


	4. Cold Shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, loves! I felt bad since the last chapter was a bit short. 
> 
> I'm about ten chapters into writing this story now, and I can't stop. This pairing is INTRIGUING, y'all!
> 
> Please let me know what you think :)

Harry’s heart fluttered again as he saw the group walk into the afterparty. He had a feeling he would see them there, as Jennifer Lopez’ party was the one that everyone was buzzing about, but he was relieved all the same.

“You’re just downright embarrassing, mate,” Liam laughed.

“What?” he snapped his head to look at his friend, who was laughing… laughing _at him._

“I didn’t even have to look at the door to know who you were watching. Your face said it all,” he snickered as he took a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Harry was annoyed, now.

“Hey, he’s a nice guy. Pretty, too, just like you. Go for it, lad.”

Harry almost did. He almost left Liam right there in the corner to go greet the group. He hadn’t been able to congratulate them, yet, and he wanted any excuse to get rid of Liam and Niall right now. Acting like they knew everything. Annoying.

Just as he attempted to retort, Ariana Grande approached them.

“Your performance was _everything_ tonight,” she said, reaching out to hug him.

“Thank you, love. Yours was _actually_ everything, though,” Harry smiled back. “And congratulations on the win. I never doubted you would take that one home.”

“Thank you!” she replied. “Yours was well-deserved too. But your performance was honestly my favorite of the night.”

 _What are you, deaf?_ Harry thought. _There was a clear best tonight, and it certainly wasn’t either of us._

“Thank you, but you’re too kind. There were so many good performers tonight.” Harry settled on that response, instead.

They continued to engage in small talk. Harry liked Ariana, he really did. But he had more important things to do. One of them was to _get Scott’s damn number._

Harry spent the next 45 minutes watching Scott out of the corner of his eye as he himself got stuck in conversation after conversation.

Now, he couldn’t find him. He started to panic. He didn’t see _any of them._ Did they leave? Already?

His gaze landed on Scott a moment later and he breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling was short-lived, however, when he saw who Scott was laughing with.

Sam Smith.

Well, that can’t be good.

Sam was _touching him. They_ kept reaching out to grab his arm, and each time it killed Harry more and more. Scott looked content, smirking and leaning in close as they talked. Harry nearly lost it when Scott threw his head back with laughter.

Knowing he needed to keep his own conversation going in order to prevent total embarrassment, he threw in short responses every few moments. Luckily, he happened to be talking to one of the most narcissistic singers in the industry in that moment, who shall remain nameless, and she hadn’t realized that he was paying literally zero attention to her long-winded story of how she wrote her latest ballad while drinking three bottles of wine in her bathtub.

He was surprised when Niall and Liam were suddenly on either side of Scott, smiling politely at Sam. They had completely hijacked the conversation between the two, and Harry had never been more thankful for his two friends in his entire life. Niall was mirroring Sam’s actions comically, which obviously hadn’t been picked up by the latter. Sam would grab Scott’s bicep while they laughed, and a moment later, Niall would do the same.

Harry would find Niall’s mockery hilarious, if what he was mocking wasn’t killing him.

Liam slung his arm over Scott’s shoulder, and leaned in, almost threateningly. Sam excused themselves from the three of them after a few short minutes, but they felt like a lifetime to Harry. Harry stopped sweating as Scott turned his full attention to Harry’s best friends, knowing he was safe there with them. He watched as they laughed easily with one another, and he admired how Scott’s eyes lit up.

Okay, he had had enough. He excused himself from the current conversation abruptly. He made a beeline for the them, politely declining roughly ten different people who called his name.

Suddenly, he was face-to-face with Scott Hoying again, and he had no idea what to say. He simply stood there, smiling.

Like an absolute idiot. Again.

He didn’t miss Scott’s smile falter upon seeing him, either.

“Hey, you,” Scott said after a moment, stirring his drink.

“Hey,” Harry replied, thankful that he had found his voice. “I wanted to congratulate you on your win, since I couldn’t do it backstage like you did for me.” Did Scott just flinch?

“Thanks so much. It was a really nice surprise.” His tone was polite, but a bit cold. Niall and Liam looked equally confused at his change in demeanor.

Harry wished he could telepathically tell them to _get lost,_ but instead, the opposite occurred. Suddenly, he was surrounded by the rest of Pentatonix. 

Scott lit up again.

_What the actual hell._

After about 30 minutes of trying to make direct conversation with Scott, and after cold reply after cold reply, or an interjection from someone else, Harry excused himself from the group and sidled up to the bar, feeling crushed.

He must have misread everything. He must have missed something. Scott must be taken. Or maybe he’s interested in Sam. Maybe Harry had missed his chance.

“Everything okay?” Harry wasn’t ready to make small talk with another female singer, but he turned to politely tell her to _get lost._

Kirstie was smiling at him, instead.

“Oh… hey.”

“You looked like you were a bit sad over there. I needed another drink, so I figured you needed a drinking buddy,” she laughed. Harry was thankful she was so sweet. Maybe he could use this conversation to his advantage.

“That sounds great. To be honest, I just kind of lose battery life quickly at these things,” he shrugged, smiling.

“I hear you! We all do, too. Mitch and Kevin, especially. Scott tends to last the longest, but that’s just because he’s the most extroverted.”

There was Harry’s chance to talk about Scott.

“Yeah that was my first impression of him, but tonight he seems done too, yeah?”

“I noticed that, too. Like he was suddenly down in the dumps,” she shrugged, glancing over at him.

“Relationship trouble, maybe?” Harry was proud of himself for sliding that in there.

Kirstie laughed. “Can you have relationship trouble without being in a relationship?”

“Oh. I thought he must be with Mitch,” Harry half-lied. It was possible, but the more he watched them, the less he believed that.

“Oh, no. They’re best friends. The three of us are, actually. We went to school together. Scott and Mitch met when they were ten.”

_Well, that’s fucking adorable._

“Oh. Well, I hope everything is okay, then,” Harry replied. He hoped she would continue to give him some insight into the man across the room.

“I’m sure he’s alright. He was excited to meet you, yesterday. We all were.” Her voice was warm and genuine. “Sorry if he was a bit rude tonight. That’s really not like him.”

“Oh, no worries. Again, I just hope it’s nothing serious. Or something I did,” he added, expertly.

“I can’t imagine how that could be the case,” she laughed. The group had dispersed, and Scott disappeared into the men’s room. He emerged again a few minutes later, and disappeared behind Harry, such that he would have to completely turn around to lay eyes on him.

“Ah, shit.” Kirstie groaned, suddenly, a few minutes later, peering over Harry’s shoulder.

“What? What?” Harry asked, looking around, knowing that this was the perfect excuse to hone in on the blond again.

There he was, leaned up against the far wall, staring blankly at the man standing menacingly in front of him.

“Todrick Hall?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, this won’t end well.” Kristie replied, standing up.

“I’ll come with.” Harry offered. They made their way to the duo, and they stood behind Todrick.

“I would just love an answer as to when exactly it was that you became so _fake._ ” Todrick sneered. Scott looked at him, evenly, his posture indicating that he was bored with the conversation already.

“I’m not _fake,_ Tod. I grew up. You assumed that I did something to hurt you _that never actually happened_ , and then you went on a Twitter tirade about me.”

“If you hadn’t done anything, you would have defended yourself.” Todrick retorted, sounding like an actual middle schooler. Harry would have loved to punch his smug little face in that moment.

“You would have loved for me to call you names and berate you publicly the way you did to me, wouldn’t you? And it kills you that I ignored you.” Scott’s voice was even, and Harry was impressed with his composure.

“You’re such a piece of shit. I can’t believe I ever had love for you.” Todrick was shaking his head now, laughing condescendingly. Scott’s eyes broke character for a moment, and Harry could see the pain in them. It broke his heart. “I wish nothing but the worst for you, Hoying, I swear to God.”

Harry had heard enough.

“Hey,” Harry said, coming around to stand between him and Scott. Only then did he stop to realize that Todrick had tears in his eyes. “Tony, right?”

“Todrick.” He grunted back.

“Oh, right, Todrick. I thought you met Scott last night. Sounds like a lot of history went down in 24 hours.”

“We went to the same high school.”

_What the hell did they put in the water in their town?_

“Alright, then. So you knew his name last night.” Harry was smirking, now. Part of him felt bad. This Todrick guy looked pretty beat up about the situation. Harry would be, too, if he had been close to Scott and then suddenly lost him.

“Yes, I knew his fucking name.”

Scott pushed off the wall and stood next to Harry, now. “We’re done with this conversation.” He placed his hand on the small of Harry’s back, in an effort to guide him away. “You don’t have a right to talk to Harry like that.”

Harry’s heart melted as Scott gently pushed him away from the argument. Once out of Todrick’s earshot, Harry spoke.

“He didn’t have a right to talk to you that way, either. To wish for ‘the worst’ for you. Are you alright?” Kirstie was suddenly nowhere to be found, and Harry was thankful to be talking to Scott alone.

“I’m good. Thanks. That was… that was nice of you. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do that.” Scott appeared nervous and upset, bouncing slowly on the balls of his feet. His eyes looked tired. Harry noticed that they avoided looking at him at all costs, darting around the room.

“…Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I have to return a call from our manager. I’m gonna step outside for a minute. I’ll see you later.” Scott didn’t wait for a reply. He was gone in an instant, leaving Harry feeling a frustrating sense of emptiness.

Fifteen minutes passed and Scott hadn’t come through the door again. Harry made sure to keep his eyes open for his return. He had to take measures into his own hands.

Once outside, he looked down the street in both directions. Scott was hard to miss, Harry was well aware of that. He was filled with a sudden uneasiness when he couldn’t find him. He began to stroll down the sidewalk. Turning a corner, he found Scott sitting on a bench, looking down at his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling an Uber.” Scott didn’t look up.

“Are you okay?”

“M’fine, thank you.” His blue eyes finally looked up into Harry’s green ones. “Go back inside. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s night. I’m just… tapped out.”

“I’m sorry if I didn’t help,” Harry replied, sitting next to him, casually. He wanted to badly to shake the man next to him and ask, “What did I do to you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Scott’s eyes still looked so _tired,_ and Harry just wanted to hug him close. Feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment about his neediness for the blond, he changed his tactic.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m tired too, I don’t know what I’m saying. Listen. Taylor Swift is going to be expecting some absolute bangers from a legendary Hoying-Styles collab. She’ll never let us live it down if we don’t come up with something. Give me your phone.”

Scott silently handed his phone over, looking slightly dumbfounded. Harry grabbed it, feeling a jolt of electricity as their fingers touched in the exchange. He typed frantically for a moment, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Scott smirked at the sound of a text message notification on Harry’s own phone.

“There. I’ll text you the time and address of our song writing session.” He smiled as he handed the phone back to Scott, trying desperately to keep his cool.

 _Mission accomplished, at least,_ Harry thought as Scott stood, just as a black car pulled up. Harry stood up, too, grabbing for Scott and pulling him close before he had the wherewithal to protest, and placing a kiss on his cheek for the second time since they met.

“Get home safe, okay?” He mumbled in his ear as he let him go.

“You too, Harry.” Scott said, searching his eyes for a moment. Harry wondered what he was thinking. He still seemed so very uneasy.

Harry watched as the car pulled away and disappeared down the road. Now he was certainly ready to go home, as well.

Did he sleep that night, either? Absolutely not. His room was filled with the sounds of Pentatonix video after Pentatonix video, _Hip Hop Goes Broadway_ and other Superfruit clips, and his own fond laughter.

**A/N: Comments? Questions? Concerns?**


	5. How Many Grammys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter. Actually, scratch that. There hasn't really been a chapter that I haven't enjoyed writing, yet. I love this ship, and I hope I make believers out of you all, too, dammit!!

Scott woke up to three notifications the next morning.

_Kirstie: Thanks for saying goodbye, butthead! … For real though, I hope you’re ok, boo._

Scott typed a quick reply, threw in a few emojis for good measure, and moved on.

_Mitch: Where did you go? :(_

Scott felt bad that he had abruptly left. He didn’t know how to go on with the rest of his night after Harry had intervened with Todrick to the _second time._ Scott had been humiliated and needed to leave. He left that text for later. He knew Mitch would understand once he explained.

_Harry: Morning, sunshine. I hope you’re feeling better._

Scott’s heart felt like it stopped upon seeing the unexpected message.

_Scott: Morning. Much better, thanks._

_Harry: Good. You had me worried that you had let that jerk get to you._

Ugh. Scott felt pathetic all over again.

_Scott: No worries. All good here._

Polite, but professional. Far from desperate. Scott was happy with his responses.

_Harry: What’s your coffee order?_

Scott’s heart stopped. That one was out of left field.

_Scott: Just a cold brew, black. Lol why?_

_Harry: Coffee is on me for our writing sesh. :)_ _I thought you would be more of a light and sweet kind of guy, not gonna lie._

_Scott: Haha, and why’s that?_

_Harry: Light and sweet for someone who’s light and sweet ;)_

Cheesy and adorable. Why was he torturing him like this?

_Scott: So yours must be a tall, extra bold, in a fancy mug._

_Harry: lol not quite, why would you think that?_

Scott tried to muster up the confidence to finish his compliment.

_Scott: Tall, dark, and handsome for someone who is tall, dark, and handsome ;)_

He immediately regretted his thirsty comment.

_Harry: Hahahahaha ;D_

Scott breathed a sigh of relief. At least he took it as a joke.

_Harry: God, you’re fucking adorable._

Scott’s heart started to race in a way that only Harry seemed to be able to cause. He had no idea what to say. His phone buzzed again, snapping him from his stunned stupor.

_Harry: You home today?_

There was no way Harry wanted to see him again today, for the third day in a row. If he said he was home all day, did that make him sound lame? Should he pretend he had something important to do? His mind began to race.

_Scott: Having plans the day after the Grammys? Sacrilege. Staying home today, recovering._

_Harry: 1:00? I’ll bring the coffee. I have good ideas._

Oh, damn. He wanted to write songs _today?_

_Scott: Works for me._

They went back and forth a few times, Scott’s heart fluttering when he gave him his address. He looked around his house. It was an absolute mess.

_God dammit._

He would have thought that waiting for his doorbell to ring in two hours would have made the time drag on, but in fact, he was left with not enough time. He groaned when the doorbell rang. He hadn’t even changed yet from the clothes he had haphazardly thrown on after his shower. He tried not to catch his own reflection in the mirror as he rushed to answer the door. The black muscle shirt, gray sweats, and snap-back would just be taunting him in his reflection if he had.

Of course, Harry looked fucking _phenomenal._

He was smiling gently when Scott opened the door, holding the two coffees, with his guitar slung over his shoulder. He was dressed simply in tight black jeans and a black t-shirt, but he just looked so much more… elegant. Scott felt like an absolute hobo.

“Hey,” Harry nearly sang, snapping Scott out of his moment of self-deprecation.

“Hey. Come on in,” Scott said, stepping to the side to let Harry saunter in. He couldn’t believe that Harry Styles was in his home. He hoped that his frantic rush to make it look presentable had paid off.

“Nice place,” Harry said, sounding sincere.

Scott led him into the living room, and nearly died from pure bliss when Harry sat on his couch. The entirety of this moment was too surreal. Harry, on the other hand, looked completely at-ease.

Scott sat in a chair across from him, finding it difficult to make eye contact without _freaking the_ _fuck out._ Harry seemed oblivious to this, as he pulled out his guitar and began tuning, absently.

“So… I know you guys are incredible with arrangements… but how’s your writing?”

Scott shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “We released an album of originals a few years back. It got good reviews… not much radio play. But the fans loved them.”

“Do you guys write and arrange everything yourselves?”

“We collaborate a lot… but we try not to release anything that at least one of us hasn’t had our hands on personally.”

“I love that.” Harry smiled, warmly. “We finally got to do that in One Direction after years of having things served to us on a silver platter, whether we liked the songs or not.”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, your stakes were a bit higher than ours are.”

“Were they, Mr. Multi-Grammy-Winner?”

Scott smiled, bashfully. “Most people don’t even consider our usual category to be real. I mean, arrangement for instrumental or A Capella? Talk about having a niche.”

“You guys could run creative circles around the rest of the industry. And your talent is sort of disgusting.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “Disgusting, huh?” Harry was laughing now.

“Disgusting,” he confirmed. Scott had to divert the conversation before his blush became too evident.

“Well, listen. I appreciate everything over the past couple of days. I don’t want you to think that this thing with Todrick is completely tragic or anything. It’s just a fallout that was blown out of proportion. It was cool of you to defend me… twice. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to follow through on the white lie you told to Taylor. I’m sure she won’t even be phased if she never hears a song from us.”

Harry seemed to be gazing into Scott’s soul as he spoke. Scott prayed he couldn’t sense how much he hoped that Harry was only here because he wanted to be.

“I’m here because I want to be.” Harry replied casually, as if he read his mind. Well, that was conveniently timed for Scott’s psyche.

Scott couldn’t contain it anymore. He had to know. “Why, though?” His voice was small, and pathetic sounding, like he was afraid of the answer. Harry looked up at him with eyes that looked soft and loving, and quite possibly with a bit of pity in them. He was silent for a moment, putting his guitar down on the couch next to him. He leaned in closer, as if examining Scott’s face from his seat across from him, eyes narrowed, studying.

“I already told you the night I met you,” he stated, slowly. Scott’s confusion must have been evident, and Harry continued. “You’re quite captivating, you know.”

Scott thought back to when Harry had said that the night they met.

“You said that for Todrick.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Scott was silent, mouth slightly open like a fish out of water. It must have been quite attractive, he thought. Harry took his continued stunned silence as his cue to continue.

“I liked your company. I thought that was pretty obvious. I thought that you are the kind of person I would love to have in my life. If the feeling isn’t mutual, though, I can absolutely go. I apologize if I overstepped.”

“No, no, no…” Scott began before he even registered what he was going to say. “That’s… that’s very nice. I obviously liked yours, too.”

“Obviously?” Harry was looking at him, doubtfully.

“…was it not obvious?” Scott was starting to feel bad now.

“You didn’t really seem to want to have anything to do with me last night. But I’m selfish so I made you talk to me, anyway.” Harry smiled, looking confident but slightly hurt.

_Great job, you came off like an outright douche._

Scott looked down at the floor, wringing his hands together, awkwardly.

“I didn’t want to come on… too strong? If that makes sense?”

“Oh love, I was following you around. If anyone was coming on too strong it was me.”

“I guess I couldn’t wrap my head around that.”

“Around what?”

“Around why the hell you would want to be talking to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”

“Because you’re Harry Styles.”

“And you’re Scott Hoying. So what?”

“So you’re kind of on a different level than me.”

“And you’re kind of hurting my feelings,” Harry replied. Scott looked up, panic-stricken.

“I didn’t mean to.” Harry smiled softly again.

“I talk to people I like. First of all, I have no gauge that tells me that I should or should not talk to someone based simply on their celebrity status. That would be pretty horrible. So yes, that’s a bit offensive.” Harry reached across and clapped a hand on Scott’s knee.

“That’s really not what I meant…” Scott started.

“Then what do you mean?” Harry seemed to be enjoying watching Scott feel uncomfortable. It was starting to piss him off. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“I just didn’t want you to think I’m some sort of… parasite. I’m sure you have people following you around, trying to get close to you all the time. It must be tiring, and I didn’t want to make you feel that way.” Scott was looking out the window now, because that was the only way he could get the words out without dying of his feeling of inadequacy.

“What is this complex you have? Do all five of you have it?”

Scott looked back at Harry, who looked serious now.

“What complex?”

“How many friends in the industry, collaborations, how many sold out shows… how many more _fucking Grammy awards_ will it take for you to realize you belong here?” Harry had scooted closer again, and now had both hands resting on Scott’s knees.

Scott took a minute to gather his thoughts. Harry really seemed to care about this. His determination to make him feel included was actually very sweet. Not wanting to upset the gorgeous man in front of him any further, he thought of a response that would diffuse the tension.

“Two.” He simply said, holding the gaze of the green eyes in front of him.

“Beg your pardon?” Harry asked, confusion written on his face.

“Two more Grammys.”

They stared at each other for another moment, smirks threatening their features, before Harry lost the battle and burst into laughter.

_**Author's Note: They're just both so cute. I can't not ship them.** _


	6. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So surprise, surprise. I rewrote history again. :)

After Scott had broken the tension, the writing session slowly gained momentum. Harry still couldn’t help but feel bad that Scott didn’t feel deserving of the success that came easily for others in their positions, but he also found that with each passing moment he enjoyed the man’s company more and more.

Harry often became lost looking at Scott’s tattooed arm, which was certainly helping as well.

“What?” Scott asked, pausing his writing in his notebook. Harry cursed himself for being caught in the act of openly staring.

“Like your tattoos.” He drawled, trying to sound casual, strumming a few notes of his guitar. “Any meaning?”

Scott extended his arm and looked down. Harry refrained from licking his lips as his arm exposed some additional flowers sprawling on the inside of his bicep. It really was pretty.

“Each type of flower represents someone in my family,” Scott replied, still looking down at them. “These larkspurs are for my mom. These carnations are for my sister, Lauren. The rose came first, that’s for my sister, Lindsay. My dad is represented down here.” Harry’s heart swelled with how sweet this explanation was. He lifted his arm again, as if he were getting ready to flex a muscle. “And asters. Those represent me.” Harry thought those were the most beautiful. He couldn’t help but notice that the asters were the only section that was hidden unless Scott intentionally showed them.

“Why are they inside your arm?”

Scott shrugged. “Eventually, I’d like to fill it all in so it’s one sleeve. What about you?”

“Me? Oh, my tattoos are absolutely random,” Harry replied, with a laugh. He moved to sit next to Scott on the couch and pointed to a small scribble on his arm.

“The sixth member of your band made me get that,” He joked. Scott thought back to James Corden’s “Hexatonix” rant and laughed. He squinted and leaned closer, noticing the small “Late Late” logo on Harry’s skin.

“Never let him pressure you into playing a game called _Tattoo Roulette,”_ he smirked. He pointed to several others, telling random stories about the conditions under which he received each. They laughed, easily, feeling nothing but comfort with one another.

The fact that they were coming up with some pretty damn lovely material was a plus. And the fact that Harry continuously made Scott smile in the most beautiful way he had ever seen certainly didn’t hurt.

Now they were seated at Scott’s piano, shoulder-to-beautifully-tattooed-shoulder, and Harry was mesmerized as he watched Scott’s fingers dance along the keys, gently.

“This melody is really nice.” Harry mused. Scott looked up at him and smiled in agreement.

“Sing the lyrics,” Scott offered.

“What? I don’t know how to fit any of what we’ve come up with, with this.”

Scott smirked. “Just try.”

Harry looked down at the lyrics scribbled on the paper in front of him.

“Slow down the chords?” He asked, and Scott complied, his fingers softly moving along the keys again.

_I'_ _m in my bed  
_ _And you’re not here  
_ _And there’s no one to blame  
_ _but the drink and my wandering hands_

Harry shut his eyes, finding himself getting lost in the words of the song and the pleasant surprise of the lyrics fitting so perfectly with the notes that Scott was playing.

_Forget what I said  
_ _It’s not what I meant  
_ _And I can’t take it back  
_ _I can’t unpack the baggage you left_

Harry paused, smiling at the man next to him. “That’s all I got,” he shrugged. Scott smiled back, and Harry struggled to catch his breath. He had to stop doing that to him before Harry’s heart gives out completely.

Scott took a breath, and the next sounds to fill the room were captivating.

_What am I now?  
_ _What am I now?  
_ _What if I’m someone I don’t want around?  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling._

Scott paused his singing to glance at Harry for approval. Harry’s stunned look provided him with the confidence to continue.

_What if I’m down?  
_ _What if I’m out?  
_ _What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling._

Harry broke himself from his trance just in time to deliver the next verse. Though they hadn’t yet come up with the lyrics, he couldn’t allow them to lose momentum. He sang the next verse from his heart, never breaking eye contact with those blue eyes.

_You said you cared  
_ _And you missed me, too  
_ _And I’m well aware I write too many songs about you_

He glanced at their empty cups on the top of the piano, smirking.

_And the coffee’s out_ (Scott smiled at that)  
 _At the Beachwood Café  
_ _And it kills me ‘cause I know we’ve run out of things we can say  
_ “Okay, sing this with me this time?” Scott asked, filling the void with the same haunting chords on the piano. Harry nodded.

_What am I now?  
_ _What am I now?  
_ _What if I’m someone I don’t want around?  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I_ _’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling._

If the goosebumps on Harry’s skin were any indication, their voices melded together perfectly. Scott’s ability to harmonize with him without even thinking about it left Harry amazed.

_What if I’m down?  
_ _What if I’m out?  
_ _What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling._

Before Scott could stop playing, Harry allowed the wave of inspiration to take over.

_And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again._

Scott stopped abruptly, his fingers never leaving the keys. He looked up at Harry with an intensity that filled Harry with confusion.

“Okay?” Harry asked, suddenly nervous. Had that been too much?

“Hell yeah,” Scott replied. “One more time?”

Harry simply smiled in reply, and they dove back in.

_What am I now?  
_ _What am I now?  
_ _What if I’m someone I don’t want around?  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling._

_What if I’m down?  
_ _What if I’m out?  
_ _What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?  
_ _I’m falling again_  
_I’m falling again  
_ _I’m falling._

Scott finished a few chords with some pretty flourishes, and his hands moved to rest on his knees. He stared straight ahead in the silence, looking pensive. Harry’s confusion returned.

“That. Was fucking _good.”_ Scott finally said. “Write it all down, quick.”

Harry laughed, obsessed with everything about this day.

“What time even is it?” Scott asked, after sitting at the piano for what felt like only a few more minutes.

Harry glanced at his watch. “Oh, wow. It’s 7:30, already.”

Scott laughed in reply. “Time flies when you’re having an inspired writing session?” He asked.

“Well, we’re kind of an amazing team,” Harry said, lightly. His eyes met those hypnotizing blues again, and he felt as though his body was acting out of his control as he leaned in, slowly. He could feel Scott’s breath on his lips, and he watched hopefully as those beautiful eyes fluttered shut. Harry brought his hand to Scott’s cheek, nearly closing the distance.

It was as though Louis Tomlinson _knew_ what was happening in that moment, and he decided to _ruin everything_ like the cheeky little shit he was. Harry’s ringtone blared from his phone perched on the top of the piano, causing them both to nearly jump out of their skin, flinging themselves to opposite sides of the piano bench. Cursing under his breath, Harry accepted the call.

“What?” Oof. That sounded a bit aggressive. He could hear Scott laugh quietly.

“Oy, is that a way to greet your love?” The Doncaster accent seeped through the receiver.

“Hello, Lou.” Harry couldn’t help but smile fondly. “What do you need?”

“What, a lad needs a reason to chat with his best mate now?”

Harry looked up at Scott, who was scribbling in the notebook again. He would have loved to tell Louis that he just ruined what could have possibly been a life-changing moment for him, but he refrained.

“I’m just in a writing session, is all.” He tried to push the urgency of the situation within his voice. Louis seemed to pick up on it. Harry was thankful that Louis knew him as well as he did.

“Ah, right. Well I just wanted to congratulate you since I couldn’t make it last night. Niall and Liam filled me in on some interesting happenings and I wanted to hear from you.” Harry could hear Louis’ knowing smile from across the Atlantic Ocean. “Anyway… who you writing with? Anyone I know and should say hello to?”

“Um…” Harry looked up. Scott looked distracted by the lyrics in front of him. “I don’t think you know him.”

“Just one him? Intimate…” Louis’ voice was teasing, now.

“Yeah, and you’ve thrown off our creative groove. Right, Scott?” Harry asked, using the name, pointedly. He could hear a gasp through the phone. He was definitively going to kill Liam and Niall. Scott looked up and smiled, kindly.

“You really need to call me later.” Louis’ voice went from teasing to excited in a millisecond.

“Will do, love. Bye.”

Harry hung up and sighed much more loudly than he had intended. Scott looked at him, concern passing over his features quickly.

“Good?” Scott asked.

“Hungry.” Harry replied.

**A/N: _Ugh they're just so cute._**


	7. Cracked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, but it oozes fluffiness and I love their banter so much. :D

“How did you write _Sign of the Times?”_ Scott asked, glancing up from the Chinese food in his hands, allowing the chopsticks to fall from his fingers.

“How?” Harry asked, confused.

“It’s pretty… epic. What came first?”

“The lyrics came first,” Harry shrugged.

“I would have assumed the opposite.” Scott mused.

“Yeah, that one was a weird experience. I think the whole process took weeks. It just sort of took on a life of its own.”

Scott nodded, not knowing what more to say. Since their almost-kiss, he was having trouble wrapping his head around anything that was going on.

_Was it even an almost-kiss? Was Harry actually leaning in, or was I acting like a psychopath?_

Harry stood from his spot on his chair and plopped down next to the blond. Their legs were brushing up against each other, leaving Scott feeling anxious.

“I like _Cracked,”_ Harry said suddenly, after a moment.

“You… like crack?” Scott said, blinking at him. Scott enjoyed watching Harry’s face burst into a wide smile with his comment.

“I like your song, _Cracked,_ you tosspot.” Scott felt a warmth radiate in his chest, now.

“First of all, thank you. Second of all, what in God’s name is a _tosspot?”_

“You know, like a stupid person.” Harry was grinning at him.

Scott feigned offence, placing his hand over his heart.

“Anyway. Who wrote that one?” Harry continued.

“I wrote it with our old bass singer and a couple of other people.” Scott said with laughter still in his voice. “Took about an hour.” He paused. “I’m surprised you have even heard that one.”

“I may have done my research before committing to write songs with you.” Scott didn’t miss Harry’s slightly flushed cheeks as he admitted this. “You made a mistake with that one, though,” Harry added after a moment.

“How so?”

“Well, it’s not necessarily a mistake. It’s only considered to be if you wanted it to get radio attention.”

“That’s not really ever our intention,” Scott shrugged, not knowing that Harry found his comment to be extremely attractive.

“Ah, alright then. Well I guess it’s fine that the one section being _actually impossible_ for anyone to sing along to doesn’t matter, then.”

“What part?” Scott couldn’t help but laugh.

“The bridge. Impossible. I actually am doubtful that _you_ can do it. The breath control, and then that run… I stand behind my theory. Impossible. In fact, I doubt you even ever sing that one live.” Harry’s face was in a permanent smile now, as if this were a challenge. Scott attempted to look insulted, but his mouth kept smirking, unintentionally.

“Harry Styles, I am offended.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

“There are plenty of live videos of that song. Look it up.”

“No. Prove it now.”

“Jerk.”

“Poser.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed. Go.”

_Fire, fire, rising inside me  
_ _Liar, liar, treat me so bad  
_ _My oh my, you hurt me so gladly  
_ _Why oh why you do me like that_

_Fire, fire, rising inside me  
_ _Liar, liar, treat me so bad  
_ _My oh my, you hurt me so gladly_  
_Why oh why you do me like that  
_ _Whoa, whoa, whoa…_

Scott closed his eyes and riffed for longer and more intricately than he had for the recording.

_Well mine’s cracked._

Scott opened his eyes after a moment, meeting Harry’s wide ones.

“You win.” Harry’s voice was monotone, and his face was contorted in pure shock. Scott sat back, smugly.

“Better watch it now, Styles,” he teased.

“Guess so,” Harry replied.

“You should probably apologize to me,” Scott pouted, allowing his eyes to emote as much hurt as possible.

His acting attempt was short-lived, however, because suddenly there was a hand on his jaw and lips had captured his own, greedily.

They were kissing?

They were kissing.

Harry had kissed him.

Scratch that.

They were _making the fuck out._

Scott began to run his hands through Harry’s hair as Harry nibbled on Scott’s bottom lip. Scott was temporarily mortified at the sound of his own needy low moan, but Harry made him forget it quickly as he swung his leg over Scott’s lap, straddling him.

Harry’s tongue was down Scott’s throat. Harry was sitting in his lap. Harry was…

Oh, God. Harry was grinding down on him and Scott might actually pass away.

Just when Scott thought he was going to die of asphyxiation (because, quite honestly, he had forgotten how to breathe), Harry pulled back, resting his forehead against Scott’s and panting slightly. Scott was glad he wasn’t the only one who had forgotten how to carry out basic life functions.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you standing at the bar.” Harry whispered. Scott’s heart was pounding painfully in his chest. No, wait. He might actually be dying. With Harry still straddling his waist, he suddenly felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.

Harry was clearly worried by Scott’s silence, so he spoke again, placing a soft hand under Scott’s chin to force him to look at him. “You with me, beautiful?”

Scott’s eyes were suddenly focused on the man above him. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around how this is even possible.”

“You’re so damn cute,” Harry replied, laughing lightly.

“What is actually happening?” Scott asked, still bewildered, no longer caring if he sounded stupid.

“You’re going to let me take you out.” Harry said, simply.

“When am I gonna do that?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Harry smiled as he took Scott’s lips into another quick kiss before hopping off of his lap.

“See you tomorrow.” Harry drawled as he walked away, slowly, pausing only to pick up his guitar and shoot Scott a wink.

And with that, Harry was gone, leaving Scott with an overwhelming feeling of longing. And God, he wished those butterflies would leave his stomach alone.

Scott lay awake that night, wondering if he had fallen sleep at all. Every time he shut his eyes, he was met with those beautiful green orbs staring into his soul, that perfect body draped over his, and those strong hands rubbing along his jawline.

He was pretty sure that for as long as this man continued to show him any interest at all, Scott was doomed to a life of sleepless nights.

**A/N: The fluffiness has to be broken up soon, and if any of you know me, you know I like to make poor Scottie suffer... Enjoy this while it lasts!!**


	8. Sur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted Chapter 9 at first. My bad, hope none of you saw that!

“Louis, _shut up.”_ Harry felt the heat of his blush spread over the skin of his face and neck. He had had enough of the teasing, and unfortunately, Louis was going to take the brunt of his frustration.

“Sorry, Hazza,” Louis managed to utter through his light laughter. “I think it’s sweet, really, how secretive you’re being about this, and how protective as well…”

“You certainly don’t think it’s cute enough to leave me alone about it,” Harry pouted into the receiver, only half-kidding.

“In all seriousness, Haz, I hope he’s worth it. Because if you pursue anything with him, I hope he’s in it for the right reasons. I just don’t want him to hurt you. None of us do. That’s all it is, really.” Harry appreciated Louis’ honesty, but he found himself becoming angry. Louis had no idea who Scott was. He had no idea what he was like. It seemed that he was simply judging for judgement’s sake, and it was making Harry’s blood boil.

“Did Niall and Liam say something to you to make you think he’s a dirtbag or something?” Harry asked, slowly.

Louis laughed again. “They actually said he’s amazing.”

“Then I’m not quite sure what the problem is.”

“The problem _is, Harold,_ that he isn’t like us. You have to watch out for barnacles and the like.”

Harry saw red flash before his eyes. “Barnacles?”

“People who want to latch on to your success.”

Harry thought back to one of his conversations with Scott, in which his heart ached as Scott admitted his self-deprecating thoughts, about how was afraid he came on too strong. Now his friend was accusing him of this exact thing. It was completely unfair.

“Scott doesn’t care about that.”

“How do you know that?”

Harry nearly threw the phone. “Because he doesn’t. He has more talent in his pinky than we had in all of One Direction. And he’s genuine, Louis. I’m sure of that.”

“Okay… okay. I’m sorry I said anything,” Louis muttered in defeat. “You seem to have fallen, hard. Did anything happen?”

“I kissed him.”

“Ahh,” the teasing tone was back. “And how was the pretty blond boy?”

“None of your business,” Harry replied, smirking again.

“I’ll have to take those lips for a spin myself then, when I finally get to meet him.”

“Over my dead body, Tommo.”

Harry caught a glimpse of his reflection in his rear-view mirror one last time before hopping out of his car later that night. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous, and considering the fact that he had just performed in front of the entire music industry, and the _world,_ just two nights before, that was saying something.

He stood at the looming front door and glared at it, like it was some sort of bouncer that was going to turn him away. _“Sorry sir,”_ he imagined the door saying. “ _You just aren’t good enough for this one.”_

He reached out and rang the bell, trying to ignore how shaky his hand was as he did so. Then, he waited. He looked down at his outfit. His black button-down was just tight enough, and it was tucked into his black jeans perfectly (he had spent fifteen minutes making sure it looked just right). The top three buttons were open, exposing three delicate gold necklaces against his bare chest that peeked through the top. His hair had been a hassle, but he finally had it just right, sitting as perfect curls on the top of his head.

He had just been thinking about his poor choice in shoes when the door opened.

Harry’s breath hitched, because what faced him then was simply _unfair._

Scott smiled softly in greeting, the light from behind him illuminating him perfectly. The black skinny jeans, the bright blue shirt that matched his eyes, the leather jacket, his perfectly styled hair that looked quite honestly like a goddamn ocean wave…

“Hi,” those impeccable lips said, shyly.

“Hi,” Harry smiled back, sounding sappy. Harry didn’t care. “Ready, love?”

“Depends,” Scott replied, looking at his shoes, smirking with his hands in his pockets. Harry’s heart dropped.

“Depends on…?” Harry urged.

“Will I look like an utter fool in this outfit at this surprise date location?” Scott asked, looking up at him and crinkling his nose. Harry laughed, trying not to melt in a puddle on Scott’s front steps.

“You look absolutely perfect.”

“If you would just tell me where we are going…” Scott mused, dramatically.

“Not a chance, gorgeous. Let’s go.” Harry continued to surprise himself with how smooth and confident he appeared. He held out his hand to the slightly taller man, and he swore that lightning ran from his fingertips up through his shoulder blade as Scott’s hand met his.

“Sur,” Scott said, simply, looking at Harry with wide eyes, fifteen minutes later.

“Sur,” Harry replied, matching Scott’s comically panicked face.

“The most frequented and camera-laden restaurant in all of Hollywood.” Scott urged.

“Sur,” Harry repeated, again.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Scott asked, trying to hide a smile.

“I’m thinking that I want to show you off a bit. Sue me.” Harry shrugged, getting out of the car when the valet approached. “Come on then,” he continued when he opened Scott’s door, finding Scott rooted in the passenger seat with his eyes still wide.

“You’re out of your mind, Styles.”

“That’s what they say,” Harry replied, pulling Scott out of the car.

And Harry kept on pulling. He led Scott by the hand past a sea of paparazzi, ignoring the voices shouting at him, and feeling an overwhelming sense of pride bubble up inside him when he heard Scott’s name called a few times, as well.

And then they were at the hostess table, and Scott looked like he might book it out of there the second Harry let his hand go.

“Two for Styles, please.” Harry said to the hostess, as he rubbed Scott’s hand with both of his own. He didn’t miss her eyes dart back and forth between their clasped hands and their faces for a moment.

“Right this way,” she replied after a moment, with a flirty smile. She sat them at a table in the back corner, where Harry had specifically requested. Once she handed them their menus, she moved to walk away. A moment later, she turned back, looking like she was debating opening her mouth again.

“I’m sorry, Scott Hoying?” she asked, timidly. He looked up at her, looking slightly shocked that she was addressing him.

“Hi,” he replied, smiling.

“I just wanted to let you know that I am a huge fan… of both of you,” she stopped and looked at Harry for a moment before turning her attention back to the blond. “Your music got me through a pretty rough time in high school. It’s all I listen to in the car, even years later…” she said, smiling shyly.

“Thanks so much, that’s very sweet of you,” Scott replied, standing up and hugging her.

“Want a picture with him?” Harry asked. She looked around nervously.

“They’ll kill me if they see me harassing the guests.”

“Don’t be silly.”

She handed over her phone and they smiled together. Harry could tell by the look on her face, and the slight flush on her cheeks, that they had made her night. After a quick goodbye, they were left with their menus again, but now, Scott wouldn’t look up.

“Everything alright over there?”

“Yup.”

Harry was instantly nervous. What had he done?

“You reading a menu, or a novel?” he tried to crack a joke to ease the sudden tension.

“Just hiding my embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment?”

“You didn’t have to tell that poor girl to do that.” Scott’s voice was low and clearly annoyed.

Harry was confused. “Tell her to do what? Take a picture with you?”

Scott looked up, and Harry felt like his glare might kill him.

“That can’t be the first time a fan has approached you,” Harry stated, doubtfully.

“No, it’s not,” Scott replied, returning his gaze to look at his menu. Harry wanted to throw that menu out the window.

“Okay, but since I’m here, I put her up to it?”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What other reason would she have to approach _me_ , when you’re the one sitting across from me?”

Harry didn’t know if he should be mad at Scott, or if his heart should break for him. Scott really, truly felt inadequate. Harry regretted taking him to this place, where all of his perceived inferiorities were laid out for everyone to see.

He wanted to yell at him, but he didn’t have the heart. He reached across the table and took his hand, instead.

“I’m sorry that you don’t see how special you are,” Harry said, solemnly. Scott’s eyes finally left the menu again, and they looked heartbreakingly beautiful. “That being said, I had nothing to do with that girl. And I would be happy to pull her over here and demand that she show us her Spotify playlist stats in order to prove to you that she really does probably listen to you in her car…”

Scott laughed. It was short, and it was forced, but it was a laugh all the same.

“Sorry,” he finally muttered, scratching the back of his neck. He had clearly moved on from anger to embarrassment. “The whole ‘show you off’ thing, and then that happened… it just seemed too perfectly timed.”

“I forgive you,” Harry smiled, and he meant it. “And just so you know… my fans don’t sound like that.” Scott shot him a questioning look. “When my fans approach me, it’s not a sweet and articulate story about me helping them through a hard time. It usually involves tears, hyperventilation, and broken sentences that involve some combination of ‘so cute’ and ‘marry me’” Scott was laughing genuinely, now. Harry loved that sound.

Harry relished in every moment of the rest of the night. The wine, the food, the conversation, everything was perfect.

“So did you and Todrick, like, ever date? Is that the problem?”

Scott laughed in reply. “No, absolutely not.”

“So what’s the issue? You said it isn’t tragic, but he sure mopes around like it is.”

Scott took an extra-long sip of his wine before setting it down. “We moved to LA together. We were very close. I supported him through everything. American Idol, which he made and I didn’t… embarrassing.” Scott paused and Harry burst out laughing at his delivery.

“Thanks for the support,” Scott said, teasingly. “Anyway, he was dating this guy, blah blah blah, and then they broke up. Flash forward to a few months later, and I have this angry message from Tod in my voicemail, accusing me of hooking up with the guy behind his back while they were together. I actually hated that guy, so I wasn’t sure where that rumor had even started, but Todrick didn’t want to believe me.”

“Rough.” Harry could watch Scott talk all night. He was intrigued by the way his mouth moved…

“It gets rougher,” he replied, taking another sip. “He goes on Instagram live, telling everyone, ‘don’t fuck with Scott Hoying, the fake ass bitch’.” Scott was smiling, and trying not to laugh. Then I look on my Twitter, and he was coming at me HARD, calling me a snake, et cetera et cetera.”

“What did you do?” Harry couldn’t help it, now he was invested.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“That’s what pissed him off the most. I think he felt I didn’t care enough about him to fight with him. Which quite honestly may have been the case, now that I look back at it.”

“You’re extremely mature,” Harry stated, simply.

“I’m extremely over it.” Scott shrugged. “I’ll defend the people I love to a fault. Come at _me_ all you want, though. I truly don’t care.” He was swirling the wine in his glass now, thoughtfully.

“I would tell you that I hate the fact that you just take it, but to be honest, I’m exactly the same way,” Harry pondered.

“Yeah, you seem pretty laid back,” Scott said, amused.

“I try to be. Life’s too short for us _snakes,”_ he smirked. Scott laughed again.

The conversation flowed so easily between them. There were no awkward pauses, no accidental interruptions of one another, and no wandering eyes due to lack of interest.

Harry could do this forever.

Scratch that. He could kiss those lips forever. And he tried to, as he dropped Scott off later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sur is a real place in Hollywood, as seen on Vanderpump Rules and Real Housewives. I am reality show trash.


	9. Good Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looooove a good sick!fic, so here you go. Some nice sick fluffiness!

The next week had been a blur. Pentatonix had begun preliminary rehearsals for their tour beginning in a few months. Scott was busy, and Scott was _exhausted._

The tabloids had had a field day with the photos from his little date with Harry. Frantic text messages from friends blew up his phone on an hourly basis. Scott couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming feeling of excitement within his chest with every message.

Harry and Scott had texted each other pretty much constantly over the course of the past week. Harry had been flirtatious and sweet, telling Scott that he couldn’t wait to see him again.

If only he had any time to even lay eyes on his new… well, he wasn’t really sure what to call him.

It didn’t help that his throat and lungs were burning with every breath he took since this morning. He was sick, and he was pretty damn miserable.

Scott threw himself into bed as soon as he got home that night. Without eating dinner or even showering, he passed out as soon as his painfully-congested head hit his pillow.

He woke later to the sound of that velvet accent enveloping the room. It was pitch black outside. Scott looked for Harry, confusion taking over him. He felt stupid when he realized that the source of the beautiful voice was his TV screen. The Late Late Show was on. It must be the crack of dawn, and Harry was his guest.

“Alright, alright, Harold. Welcome to the show, and congratulations are certainly in order for your Grammy award last week,” James Corden announced, more to the audience than to the man himself. Scott watched fondly as Harry flashed a shy smile.

“Thank you, thank you. It was definitely an exciting evening,” Harry replied, and Scott could listen to him read the dictionary for the rest of his life with his low, smooth voice.

“I’ll bet it was.” James looked at him, pointedly. Harry met his gaze and smiled, teasingly.

“What?” Harry said after a moment. The audience burst into laughter.

“I need to ask you a _very_ important question before we move along.”

“Okay.” The audience was stirring now with whispers.

James slammed an enlarged photo on his desk so quickly that it startled Harry. The photo was of Harry and Scott outside of Sur, holding hands as Harry pulled Scott along. Both men were smiling and looking down.

“Explain yourself, Styles!” James feigned aggravation.

Scott sat up in bed, feeling himself start to sweat. He didn’t know if he was feverish or if he was just extremely anxious to hear Harry’s explanation of the photo.

Harry was laughing and shaking his head. James pretended to become angrier.

“Speak up! What is going on here?”

“That’s… That’s Scott Hoying. He’s in Pentatonix,” Harry said, playing dumb.

“I know who it is!” James exclaimed, smacking Harry on the arm with the photo. “He rejected me as a member of his band not a week ago and then I stole his bloody Grammy!”

“Hey, hey, don’t damage that. I want to frame it when I get home.” Harry joked, reaching for the photo. Scott felt a familiar warmth in his chest.

“What were you doing holding hands with Scott bloody Hoying? America needs to know!”

“Eating dinner.” Harry simply said.

“Eating dinner…” James glared back. “Why were you eating dinner, might I ask?”

“It’s a meal that people eat in the evening. People eat meals, like dinner, in order to survive.” Harry continued, slowly.

James threw the picture on the floor. “I know good and well what dinner is, Harold Edward Styles!” The audience had erupted into a fit of laughter now, and Harry couldn’t hold it together anymore. He broke out of character, and let out a light-hearted laugh.

“Spill, Harry.” James said, laughing as well as he returned to his seat, smoothing out his jacket.

“Looks like the paparazzi found me out on a date,” Harry said, calmly. Scott knew that if he had been asked this question first, all anyone would be able to talk about was how red he had become, and how difficult it was to understand his stuttered response. He was thankful that Harry had been approached with it, first.

“Harryyyy,” James’ voice was high-pitched, now, as he brought his hands to his cheeks in excitement.

“Jaaaames,” Harry mirrored him. The audience erupted again.

“I love the idea of this, I admit,” James stated after laughing, himself. “This is a good match, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not really,” Harry replied. Scott’s heart sank. Was Harry breaking things off on national TV? The audience became quiet. James looked at him, awkwardly.

Before James could reply, however, Harry smiled and continued. “I’m just hoping he doesn’t pick up on the fact that he is _way too good for me.”_ Harry finished, beaming now. “I’ll definitely be holding on to any chances I have until he realizes that, though.”

Scott let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. His throat and lungs screamed in protest as he did so.

Harry had gone public with the fact that they were dating. He had expressed that he wanted to be with him. Scott was thrilled.

The adrenaline rush was short-lived, however, and he was overcome with sleep once more.

He awoke to the sound of his phone buzzing on his nightstand. Groaning, he reached for it without opening his eyes.

“’llo?” His voice came out in a painful rasp.

“Scott?” Harry’s voice woke him up in an instant. He sat up quickly, realizing how sore his muscles were. He felt like death. His room was bright. He had no idea what time it could possibly be.

“Hey, Harry.” Scott replied, cringing at the sound and clearing his throat afterwards.

“Are you… alright?” Harry sounded concerned. Scott was thankful for that.

“Not feeling so well,” Scott replied, rubbing his throat, as if that was going to help.

Scott didn’t miss the fact that Harry let out a nervous breath. “Aww, babe. You were scaring me. I texted you quite a bit yesterday… never heard back from you.”

“Came home, passed out. Sorry.” Scott hoped he didn’t sound annoyed with his short response, but he just couldn’t stand the pain of talking anymore.

“You need tea. And soup… lots of soup.” Harry was rambling off items, more to himself than to Scott. Scott’s eyes widened when he realized that Harry could very well be on his way over.

“No… no, Harry, I’m fine, really.” Scott’s breath was short, and he was sure that Harry could hear the pain he was in through the phone. He cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to pass this to Harry.

“Be there in an hour.” And then there was silence. Scott groaned, immediately flinching in pain.

He could at least shower. He stood up, realizing that his clothes were clinging to his sweaty body. He definitely had the flu. Showering was a must.

Freshly showered, he didn’t realize that he had dozed off again until he was startled out of sleep by the doorbell ringing.

Now he needed to get to the door. Every muscle in his body protested as he made his way slowly to the front of his house, and his head began to spin if he took a step too quickly. He should have just left the door unlocked and taken his chances with the crazy people in this world.

He opened the door after what seemed like an hour (Harry had rung the doorbell two more times) and leaned against the doorframe for support as Harry’s form came into view behind it. Harry was smiling, but it faltered when he saw the state of him.

Scott knew he looked pathetic, but Harry had instantly paled upon seeing him. Scott backed away, unsteadily, when Harry instinctively reached out for him.

“No, no, no, I won’t get you sick,” he rasped.

“What is your temperature, love?” Harry asked, pushing his way through the doorway.

“Not sure… warm?” Scott attempted a joke there, but it sounded just as pathetic as he looked.

“Have you been drinking anything?” Harry asked as he made his way into the kitchen. Scott followed painfully slowly behind him.

“Hurts to drink.” Scott muttered, and swayed a bit on his feet as he entered the kitchen, trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Babe,” Harry said seriously, as he was at Scott’s side immediately, steadying him by the waist.

“I’m making you some tea,” Harry continued, rubbing Scott’s arms, slowly, like he was afraid to let go. He led him to a stool at his kitchen island, sat him down, and watched him for a moment before leaving him to go to the stove.

Scott wanted to put his head down on the cold marble of the kitchen island below him. He felt his body sagging in his seat, like he was going to melt off of the chair. He settled for resting his elbows on the cold surface, with his head in his hands.

A coughing fit suddenly took over his body, and his muscles screamed at him as he struggled for air. Harry was behind him again, his arms snaked around his middle, rubbing his chest softly.

The coughing sputtered and ended, and Scott felt as though there was no life left in him. His face was on the marble now. He could die here and be okay with it. He smiled despite himself, feeling the strong arms around him, stroking his chest, then moving to his back, lightly rubbing circles there, now.

He was pretty sure that his t-shirt was soaked again. He couldn’t even muster up enough energy to care.

“You’re so hot.” Harry mumbled, behind him.

“Thank you,” He smiled teasingly, ignoring the feeling of broken glass in his throat. He knew what Harry meant, but continued the joke, anyway. “You aren’t half bad, yourself.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Thank you, again.”

They sat there for a moment in silence, Scott trying to catch his breath and Harry silently worrying more than he knew he should. The tea kettle whistled, startling them both.

Harry handed him the warm mug a few moments later. Scott reached for it, and a shiver overcame him.

“Let’s get you lying down,” Harry stated, grabbing for his hand. Scott’s eyes were clenched shut and he didn’t move.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, and Scott felt horrible when he heard the stressed tone of his voice.

“Head hurts.” Scott said, blinking slowly.

He allowed himself to be led to his bedroom, with Harry gripping his hands. He cursed himself for allowing this to be the conditions under which Harry was bringing him to bed for the first time, but his head pounded more and more with every thought. He prayed that his room didn’t smell like sweat and _sick person._ You know that smell? Where it smells like someone is actually rotting away? Maybe that was dramatic, but Scott felt that this moment warranted that.

Harry sat Scott on the edge of the bed and pushed him softly onto his back.

Scott hated this _so much._

_This is not how I imagined being laid on my back by Harry fucking Styles._

Harry covered him with his comforter and Scott covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. Whether it was due to his pounding headache or the sheer embarrassment of this situation, Scott wasn’t even sure. He felt Harry’s presence disappear, but then the mattress dipped next to him. His heart immediately began to pump aggressively in his chest. He looked up at Harry, who had abandoned his shoes at the end of the bed, and who was crawling into the bed next to him.

“Harry, no…” he croaked.

Harry froze.

“Just gonna lay with you. Wasn’t gonna try any funny business.” Harry drawled, moving closer.

“I really don’t want you to catch this.”

“S’ok, gorgeous. I’ll take my chances.”

And with that, Harry’s arm was snaked around Scott’s middle, with his head resting on his chest.

Scott fell asleep peacefully that way, despite the few instances where he woke Harry suddenly with a coughing fit, nearly launching Harry into the ceiling with his shaking chest.

If Harry wanted to snuggle with a sweaty mess, Scott certainly wasn’t going to argue against it any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a Scavi fanfic... because apparently I have some severe fanfiction ADD which prevents me from only working on one thing at a time. Would anyone be interested in that? That was another new ship for me, but I was suddenly inspired.


	10. Preferred Method of Payment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Had to change the rating of this story based on this chapter and some future ones. Teehee :D

By the grace of some miracle that Harry couldn’t understand, he never caught Scott’s illness from hell. Harry had gone over every day for the past week after his time in the studio, and held onto Scott as he recovered. He hated the thought of Scott being sick with no one to care for him. He knew that Mitch and Kirstie had been over for quick visits, but that they had not wanted to get too close.

So he lay there in Scott’s bed, lazily trailing kisses over his shoulders and jawline, tracing small circles on his chest and stomach, and holding him close as the coughing fits took over. While he loved that Scott was allowing him to take care of him, Harry wished that he could be laying in this bed with a few less clothes, and in slightly different circumstances. But he lay there anyway, and he loved every second of those seven days.

Sure, Scott may be fully recovered now, but Harry still found himself at the Starbucks drive-through, picking up a hot tea for the blond, fully intending to continue to dote over him.

He was probably sick of it, but Harry smiled to himself at that thought, because he simply didn’t care.

Scott answered the door quickly today, which solidified the fact that he was feeling better. He was in ripped skinny jeans and a plaid shirt, which indicated that he had either gone somewhere or was planning to. Harry was relieved to see that.

Scott smiled when he saw him standing in the doorway with his tea in hand. There was that precious crinkle of his nose, again.

“Harry, I’m feeling better.” Scott said, letting him in.

“Just making sure,” Harry replied, shoving the tea into his hands as he passed and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“I actually came for my payment,” Harry continued, a serious look on his face now as he entered the kitchen.

“Payment for…?” Scott started. “Starbucks tea?”

Harry laughed and closed the gap between them quickly. Scott’s back met the kitchen island as he was pushed backwards. Harry pressed on his hips and placed a quick kiss on the crook of his neck.

“For taking such good care of you,” Harry replied, lazily. He placed another kiss there for good measure. He enjoyed feeling the pulse of the taller man beneath his lips.

Scott placed his tea on the island, reaching far across it to do so. Harry thought the placement was funny. Scott had long arms but that reach seemed unnecessary.

Nope, it wasn’t unnecessary at all. Within a split second, Scott had spun on his heel to face Harry, reached behind his legs, and hoisted him up on the counter in one fluid motion.

It was the sexiest split second of Harry’s life.

Scott attacked his lips as his hands rested on the small of his back. Harry moaned against him, letting his hands roam over the body pressed to him.

Scott pulled away, suddenly, and Harry groaned, not caring if he sounded eager. “How do you prefer payment?” Scott asked, looking into his eyes. Harry noticed that Scott’s eyes were dark with lust.

“What do you suggest?” Harry asked, running his hands through the blond hair in front of him. All he wanted was his mouth back on Scott’s. Or better yet, his mouth on another part of Scott. His dick twitched at the thought. He groaned as his pants tightened.

“I can certainly help you there,” Scott replied, looking down between them. Harry nearly exploded just at that thought.

“I would say that would even the score,” Harry said, trying to convey as much confidence as possible. He realized quickly that he had failed, his voice coming out with an embarrassing amount of desperation.

Scott captured his lips with his own again, his hand moving down to palm Harry over his now painfully tight jeans.

“You took care of me, so it’s only fair that I take care of you,” Scott whispered as he nipped at Harry’s neck.

Harry felt the tightness around him loosen as Scott unzipped his fly. He snaked his hand down into Harry’s waistband, pulling him free from the fabric. His hand wrapped around him, pumping slowly, almost painfully so.

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel the lips that were attached to his neck form into a smile. Harry grabbed needily at Scott, wanting to touch as much of him as possible.

Scott didn’t have to lower himself too far, with the height of the kitchen island. Harry realized that this positioning had probably been premediated, and somehow it made him even harder.

Harry thought he might die from pleasure as he felt Scott’s warm mouth envelop him, bobbing up and down, sucking at just the right time. He looked down to find the most stunning sight he had ever laid eyes on. The beautiful blond man was looking up at him through his eyelashes, his piercing blue eyes making Harry’s legs shake.

Harry groaned as Scott leaned in and he hit the back of Scott’s throat. Scott had taken all of him.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Harry panted. He wanted desperately to fuck Scott’s mouth, but he kept still, knowing that this would make him come too soon.

He wanted to see him. He wanted to be seen. They both felt too fully clothed. He wanted to rip the cloth barriers off of both of them. But he couldn’t move, it just felt too _good._

“Scott…” he panted in warning a few minutes later. Scott bobbed up at down, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked expertly. He quickened his pace then, knowing what was about to happen.

“Scott… gonna…” and Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He came undone into Scott’s throat, watching lustfully as Scott swallowed every ounce.

Scott stood up, slowly, meeting Harry’s eyes with his still lust-filled ones.

“Are we even?” He growled, tucking Harry away and zipping up his fly once more.

“Fuck, yes.” Harry replied, breathlessly. Scott grinned as he leaned in to capture Harry’s lips in another kiss.

“Good, I figured it was more convenient than Venmo.”

They were sprawled on his couch an hour later, with Harry leaned up against the slightly broader and longer frame. Harry had tried to return the favor nearly ten times in the past hour, but Scott had denied him, citing the fact that if he returned the favor, Scott would just be in debt again.

“We’re even, though!” Scott laughed, pushing Harry off of him as Harry had attempted to sneak his hand down to Scott’s groin for the umpteenth time.

“I don’t want to be even,” Harry pouted. Scott was clearly enjoying this. He enjoyed the fact that he was visibly making him _suffer._

He wanted to see all of Scott. He wanted to know every inch of him. He had never felt more strongly about that.

“Nope, no debt for me.”

Harry’s phone buzzed a few minutes later. Harry glanced at his notification, his face falling into a grimace. Scott had clearly seen this, and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s frame.

“I have to go to New York tomorrow,” Harry said, answering Scott’s unspoken question.

“Ew,” Scott replied, kissing his shoulder. “How long?”

“Just three days… but you know…” he turned towards Scott and straddled his hips. “All the more reason that you should let me see you… all of you, now…”

“Not a chance,” Scott laughed.

“Pleeeeeease,” Harry pouted.

“You’re the one who said I owed you,” Scott replied, with his hands up in defeat. Harry leaned down, pecking him on the lips.

“I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back, Harold. You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.”

“I’ll lie in bed with you,” Harry replied, waggling his eyebrows in comically feigned seduction. Then he leaned closer. “Oh my back,” he continued, whispering in Scott’s ear. “lmy legs over your shoulders,” Scott groaned in reply. “Screaming your name.”

“Fuck you, Styles.” Scott’s eyes were narrow, a flush creeping up on his cheeks.

“That’s what I’m trying to let you do,” Harry replied simply.

Somehow, a tickle fight ensued, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're lucky I'm easing you into the smuttiness. Let me know if you need me to pump the breaks. Now is your chance! It gets saucy in future chapters ;)


	11. Experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know me, I enjoy torturing Scott Hoying emotionally in my stories. Why do I do that? I have no idea. In real life, I worry about his every emotion. Oh well, you knew this was coming. Sorry in advance.

Scott felt an emptiness while Harry was gone. He couldn’t even imagine how it might be in the future, with different touring schedules and responsibilities on opposite sides of the world. If Scott was having trouble with three days apart, he was definitely going to have trouble with _three months_ apart.

Harry had been texting him, but they were few and far between. Harry had called him yesterday. Scott’s heart had skipped a beat when he saw the FaceTime call come in. Nothing beat being close to Harry, however, and though Scott could see that he was trying, he knew that Harry was very busy, and Scott was beginning to feel like more of a burden than anything.

Luckily, he had a writing session with his band to take his mind off of this for a little while. Kevin’s beatboxing was a welcome distraction in his too-quiet mind at the moment.

So tell me what’s going on with him,” Kirstie urged as they were taking a short break. She was sitting with her legs crossed, facing him on the couch, physically urging him to spill the tea. He laughed, trying to sound relaxed, but he was actually dying to tell her.

“Kirst, there isn’t much to tell.”

“It’s been weeks since you met him, and he flat-out said on national TV that he was dating you. How is there nothing to tell?”

“I don’t… suck and tell.”

Kirstie’s mouth was agape. Scott would have loved to snap a photo of it for blackmail later. She looked downright _hilarious._

“You did not.”

“Yeah… I kinda did, though.” That earned him a slap on his chest. He rubbed at the point of collision, pouting. “Ouch.” He moped.

“Anything more?” She asked, her voice high-pitched.

“Nah… I was kind of a tease,” he shrugged, recounting how mean he had been.

“Keep him guessing. I like it, Hoying.”

Two hours later, they had the beginnings of three original songs and two potential covers. Mitch looked down at his phone as they all sipped some water, feeling their throats starting to give out. It was getting late.

“Uh… Scott?” Mitch said, eyes wide, still gazing down at his phone.

“Mitch?” Scott asked, only half-joking.

“What’s the status of you and Harry Styles?”

Scott’s heart was pounding now. He didn’t miss Kirstie blushing next to him, knowing what he had done.

“Um… well, we’re dating, I guess?”

“Then why is there a photo of him with his tongue down Kendall Jenner’s throat that’s timestamped _an hour ago?”_ Mitch’s voice sounded frantic for his friend. Scott would have stopped to appreciate it if he hadn’t been trying not to throw up all over himself in his state of panic.

His mind started to race. He didn’t know why he felt so scandalized that it was a woman. He knew it was quite possible that Harry was bisexual, pan, he didn’t care about that. But for some reason, as he wracked his brain, he couldn’t think of a single man that Harry had been confirmed to date before him.

_Shit. I was an experiment._

“Send that to me?” Scott asked, pleasantly surprised with how calm his own voice sounded. His own phone buzzed with the notification a moment later, and Mitch looked at him with sympathy.

The session wasn’t nearly as productive after that. Scott had nothing to contribute, and the others were tiptoeing around him, falling into uncomfortable silence between singing.

Matt asked if he wanted to grab dinner as they all stood to collect their things. Scott adored Matt for caring so much, but he wanted nothing more than to tell him to _leave him the fuck alone._

So he sat in his house. Alone. He had googled the image to see if perhaps it was an old picture that had been reposted in the tabloids. Nothing. All articles were posted today.

_Harry Styles Cheating?_

_Scott Hoying Heartbroken!_

_Kendall Wants Harry Back!_

Scott looked at the headlines and wanted to scream. He willed himself not to cry. He didn’t want to give Harry anything more than he already had.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

_New Search Results: Scott Hoying Duped – How the Singer Fell for the Wrong One_

And then it buzzed again.

_New Search Results: How Scott Hoying had his Heart Shattered in 3 Weeks’ Time_

His grip tightened on his phone. His eyes were burning with tears that he refused to let fall.

 _Fuck you for humiliating me,_ he thought. He put his phone in his lap and placed his face in his hands, trying to steady his own breathing.

His phone buzzed again. Not ready to see another headline, he ignored it. It continued to vibrate, however, and Scott finally gained enough courage to glance at the screen.

_Harry Styles Wants to FaceTime._

Scott’s hand moved without thinking. His phone hit the wall a moment later, falling unceremoniously on the floor. Scott was shaking now, watching the screen light up across the room before dimming a minute later.

He rolled over in his bed, praying that he could at least get some sleep tonight. Anything to forget this awful feeling, even for a moment. He felt _stupid._

Somehow, he did fall asleep, missing the string of notifications that came rolling in over the next three hours, into early the next morning.

_Harry: Tried to call you. Really need to speak with you, babe._

_Harry: Please, Scott. I need to talk._

_Harry: Please let me explain?_ __

_Harry Styles wants to FaceTime._

_Harry: Scott… it wasn’t what it looked like, I promise you. I am crazy about you._

_Harry: You’re terrifying me._

_Harry Styles wants to Facetime._

_Harry: SCOTT, PLEASE._

And one text from a number that his phone did not recognize:

_Hi Scott. It’s Louis Tomlinson. I’m with Harry in New York… he really needs to speak with you. He’s beside himself worried… Please let him know ur ok?_

Scott woke the next morning and nervously picked the phone up off of the floor, afraid of the notifications that awaited him. He glazed over each one, and put his phone on his dresser, abandoning it there.

Harry Styles could go fuck himself, and so could Louis Tomlinson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd it go? Poor Scott can never be happy in my brain.


	12. Unravelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for Harry's side of the story! Enjoy :)

_Fifteen hours earlier:_

Harry sat at the quietest bar they could find, enjoying the company of his best friend, but anxious to return to California. He wanted nothing more than to be with Scott again. He was trying not to come off too clingy while he was away, so he was only sporadically texting him.

Harry was definitely thankful that Louis happened to be in New York at the same time as his three days of promo. He was a welcome distraction.

“You’ve got it bad, eh?” Louis asked, after Harry had zoned out for the third time since they sat down.

“…What?” Harry asked after a moment, He had clearly not even heard what Louis had said.

“I said,” Louis started, grabbing Harry’s face so he could look into his eyes, “You got it bad.”

Harry smiled, sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess so. Can’t get him off my mind, Lou.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“He’s incredible. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s _incredibly_ talented, and _sexy…”_ he was zoning out again, even as he spoke.

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Louis teased. He clapped Harry on the back. “Come on, lovestruck puppy. Let’s hit the club.”

Harry really did not want to be at a club tonight. He knew that Louis needed a night out, so he begrudgingly followed him out of the small pub. He stumbled a bit, realizing that he had probably already had a few too many.

The club was obnoxiously crowded. Louis took him by the hand, and he was dragged through a sea of sweaty bodies. Suddenly, the crowd was gone. It took Harry a moment to register why that was. They were in a VIP area.

He felt arms wrap around him almost immediately. They weren’t the arms he wanted. They were long, but they were bony. They weren’t strong and muscular.

“Hey, Kendall. What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to sound as pleasant as possible. Sure, they had broken up amicably, but Harry was never able to shake the feeling that she wasn’t over it.

“In town for a show. What about you, handsome?” She asked, twirling one of the curls on the top of Harry’s head around her finger.

Harry couldn’t deny it. She was absolutely stunning. Her eyes were soft and beautiful.

But they were brown. Harry much preferred blue.

The kind of blue that shimmers silver when they’re filled with lust. The kind of blue that sparkles like a tropical ocean when filled with tears of laughter.

Harry smiled adoringly at the thought of those eyes. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t yet answered her question.

“Dance with me?” She asked without waiting for an answer to her first question. Before Harry knew it, he was dragged onto a balcony overlooking the dancefloor below.

She danced like she was having sex. Harry used to find it extremely sensual. Now, as she pressed herself against him, her leg between his, rubbing up on his groin with her thigh, he found himself thinking of Scott again.

The way he wished that he could be pressed up against that body instead, with his leg between Scott’s the way the Kendall’s was rubbing so perfectly up against him in this moment. He would be leaning up against Scott the same way Kendall was against him, allowing his hands to roam over the taller man’s muscular torso.

He would lean in, just like Kendall was doing to him, and whisper dirty things into his ear.

Then, he would capture Scott’s lips in a kiss, and he wouldn’t let him go. Just like Kendall was doing.

_Wait. What? Fuck. Pull away. Pull away._

And his slow reflexes finally allowed him to. He pulled away just as the room was illuminated with camera flashes from below.

_What the fuck just happened?_

“Kendall… I can’t do this,” Harry began, running his hands through his hair. Kendall laughed, light-heartedly.

“It’s ok Harry, I’m not looking for anything from this.”

“No, no… no.” Harry’s eyes were filling with tears now and he was clawing at his own hair, desperately. Louis was suddenly by his side now, grabbing him by the elbow and leading him into the men’s room, before Harry could even register what was happening.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking, Haz?” Louis asked, letting Harry go a bit too aggressively.

“She… she took me by surprise.” Harry started. Suddenly, he was overwhelmingly nauseous. He ran into the stall in front of them and emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

“Ok. I’m sure it’s fine. It happened so fast, maybe no one else saw. We’ll pretend it never happened. Take it to the grave, yeah? Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

Harry allowed himself to be dragged back to his room. He passed out nearly immediately. He didn’t remember drinking that much, but he felt like he had been hit by a truck. He supposed that it must simply be his aching heart, attempting to continue to pump blood throughout his body while feeling like it was being crushed in a vice.

He stirred two hours later in a state of panic. He sat up and began scrolling through his phone. His heart was in his throat as he read the text messages from Liam and Niall.

****_Liam: Haz, what the hell man?_ ** **

****_Niall: I really hope this isn’t true. Kendall? Mate… Scott was such an upgrade._ ** **

Harry was becoming frantic. He googled his own name, and watched in horror as the headlines popped up.

****_Harry Styles Cheating?_ ** **

****_Scott Hoying Heartbroken!_ ** **

****_Kendall Wants Harry Back!_ ** **

Harry felt the nausea creep up quickly, again. He sprinted for the bathroom and made it just in time. He threw up again, and wondered how it was possible that there was anything left. Filled with fear, he picked up his phone again.

****_Scott Hoying Duped – How the Singer Fell for the Wrong One_ ** **

****_How Scott Hoying had his Heart Shattered in 3 Weeks’ Time_ ** **

Surely, Scott didn’t believe this… right? Harry frantically found Scott in his contact list, fingers shaking as he clicked “FaceTime Call”.

It rang… and it rang… and it rang some more. Tears stinging his eyes again now, he frantically began typing.

****_Harry: Tried to call you. Really need to speak with you, babe._ ** **

Five minutes later, he was beginning to shake.

****_Harry: Please, Scott. I need to talk._ ** **

****_Harry: Please let me explain?_ ** ** ****__ ** **

****_Harry Styles wants to FaceTime._ ** **

****_Harry: Scott… it wasn’t what it looked like, I promise you. I am crazy about you._ ** **

****_Harry: You’re terrifying me._ ** **

****_Harry Styles wants to Facetime._ ** **

****_Harry: SCOTT, PLEASE._ ** **

Harry was openly crying now. He felt utterly hopeless. A sudden light knock on the door snapped him out of his stupor.

“Hey,” Louis said, his voice a mix of aggravation and sympathy. “I’m guessing you saw the articles. They move fast nowadays, Hazza.”

Harry didn’t respond. He simply stood there, trying to see Louis through the tears pooling in his eyes. Louis pulled him into his chest at that moment, letting his best friend fall apart.

“Did you call him?” Harry nodded into his chest. “Did he answer?” Now he shook his head.

“How many times?” Louis asked, letting him go. Harry handed the phone to him, silently. Louis saw the texts and FaceTime attempts. He sighed and pulled out his own phone.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“I’m gonna text your boyfriend.” Harry was looking at him, confused now.

“He may have blocked you.”

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. He would kick in Scott’s door if that’s what it took to explain himself. He refused to lose something that had hardly begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What did we think? Should we team up and kill Harry together, or should we give him a pass?


	13. Beautifully Broken Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one... sorry!! It's an important one, though!

Scott was sprawled out on his couch, with Mitch clinging to his torso. This was a position with which they were quite familiar. Most would think they were looking at an old married couple in this position, but that was just the way that Scott and Mitch’s relationship was.

Mitch occasionally tried to persuade Scott to talk, as it was alarming how emotionless he was. Scott would shut him down each time, telling him to pay attention to the _Law and Order_ episode they were watching because it was “a pivotal part”. Mitch was pretty sure his own eyes were rolling into the back of his head completely each time. He would simply clutch Scott tighter.

Three episodes later, the doorbell startled them out of their focus on the screen. Mitch raised his head and looked at Scott, eyes wide. They laid there, staring at each other for a moment, before they heard the sound again.

“I’ll get it,” Mitch whispered, kissing Scott on the cheek, sympathetically, as he felt the taller man’s heart beating out of his chest. “You’re okay,” he added as he walked away.

Scott sat up, listening intently. For a moment, he couldn’t hear a word.

“Mitch, hi…” the exquisite voice carried from the front step into the adjacent living room. Scott felt himself becoming emotional at the sound. He wanted to slap himself, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Hi, Harry.” Mitch replied. Scott had never been more thankful for Mitch. His voice was cold as he continued, “I don’t think it’s a very good idea for you to be here.”

Scott couldn’t hear Harry’s reply, if there was one.

“Harry, stop.”

“Please. Please let me in,” Harry’s voice was shaky. Scott tried to compose himself.

“Not now, Harry, please… Harry, I said _stop.”_

And just like that, Harry was standing in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was a mess. He looked beautifully broken. Scott couldn’t stand it. He was confused. It had only been three weeks of knowing each other. And beyond that, Harry had been the one to toss it aside. How could he be this upset? He had _no right_.

“Hi there.” Scott simply said, trying as hard as he could to appear stronger than he was. He prayed that he looked somewhat decent. He wished he had had the wherewithal to make himself look as attractive as possible for this inevitable exchange. Instead, he was sitting in a t-shirt and shorts, with a snap-back on his head again.

At least his eyes weren’t red and puffy. He refused to let Harry see that. Not after only three weeks. He would look pathetic. He noted that Harry didn’t look pathetic at all, but _Scott_ would. If you were to ask Scott about the logic of that, he wouldn’t be able to explain it, but it was true.

Harry was on his knees now, with his hands resting gently on Scott’s thighs, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Scott had to look away. The face in front of him was breaking his heart. His legs were burning where Harry lay his hands.

“Please… please look at me.”

Scott laughed, coldly. He wished silently that Mitch would join them in the room again. He knew he wouldn’t. He knew that Mitch would leave them alone.

“Please don’t touch me,” Scott countered, emotionlessly. He mentally patted himself on the back.

Scott turned his gaze to look into Harry’s eyes and he nearly fell apart when he saw the pent-up emotion within them as Harry withdrew his hands.

“It wasn’t what it looked like.” Harry’s voice cracked halfway through the statement. It was almost adorable. _Almost._

“It looked like you were getting pretty cozy with your ex-girlfriend.” Scott said, not breaking eye contact. He was feeling more confident now.

“I was drunk… and… I…”

Harry was cut off by Scott’s cold laughter again. “I was drunk two nights ago, Harry. I’m proud to say that I didn’t make out with anyone in the corner of a club.”

Harry looked as though he had been kicked in the stomach at the thought.

“What you saw? That happened in a split second. Her lips were on mine before I could register what was happening… I pushed her off.”

“You didn’t push her off when she was dancing on you. In fact, I think I recall that you were actually _humping_ her, for lack of a better word… I could see how she may have gotten the wrong idea.”

“How did you know I was dancing with her?”

“Harry, there are videos of it. You must think I’m an idiot.” Scott was becoming angrier by the moment. He stood up, running his hands through his hair. Harry stood up quickly, as if afraid that Scott would run from him.

Scott took a breath to calm himself before continuing. “I don’t know what you were hoping for here. But Harry… I can’t give it to you.”

Harry’s eyes were devoid of life in that moment. He looked like his soul had shattered with those words.

“I just want you.” Harry’s voice was wet and full of emotion. “Only you. Please.”

“I won’t be your experiment anymore. Mitch and I have plans. I guess I’ll see you around?” Scott kept his tone even, but he knew his dam was about to break. He needed Harry to get out.

“Scott… you were never an experiment. Why would you say that?”

Scott walked to the front door, opening it and stepping to the side. “You can decide if you want to mess around with guys… but you can use someone else to figure that out.” He gestured out the door with his hand, refusing to look Harry in the eye.

“You think I was… that I was using you?” Harry sounded more broken than ever. Scott was surprised that Harry was showing this much emotion after only a short time of knowing him. He remained silent.

“Goodbye, Scott.” Harry nearly whispered. He stumbled out of the doorway, looking as though he may fall to his knees.

Scott’s heart broke for him. But he refused to let Harry Styles make a fool out of him.

The door shut, and the dam finally broke. Scott leaned against the wall, slumping down to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He choked out a heart-wrenching sob. Small arms were around him within moments.

“Shhh… it’s okay, Scooter. I’m so proud of you.” Mitch’s lips were pressed into his hair as he whispered the words, kissing the top of his head.

Scott fell into a fitful sleep later that night, with Mitch still wrapped around him, refusing to leave him alone. He was thankful for his best friend, but he couldn’t help but wish that those arms belonged to someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think? Personally, I think I love these two together and I wish more people would write about them. That's just me.


	14. I Get the Feeling that You'll Never Need Me Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Harry to fight for his life! Please leave some love, constructive criticism, etc. Or just comment here and say hey! :)

Harry tried on his fifth suit of the day, shaking his head with self-loathing at his reflection in the mirror. The Billboard Music Awards were in less than four hours, and he had no idea what he was going to wear.

Two months had gone by since Harry stumbled out of Scott’s house, looking for the pieces of his shattered heart on the front walkway as he left. The pain was excruciating, at first. It then shifted to a shooting pain, and eventually it was just a dull throb. Annoying and painful, but tolerable.

He had texted him a few times… of that, he was ashamed. Scott deserved so much more. He looked down at his phone, noting the string of blue speech bubbles with no replies.

****_Harry (3/5/20): Can I call you?_ ** **

****_Harry (3/14/20): I miss you._ ** **

****_Harry (3/20/20): I think I left something at your house._ ** **

****_Harry (3/21/20): I was hoping you would ask, “what?” to which I would reply, “My heart.”_ ** **

****_Harry (4/8/20): I fukign lvoe u._ ** **

****_Harry (4/9/20): Sorry… rough night last night. Had a few too many._ ** **

Then, they stopped. That last one was nearly a month ago.

He settled on a baby blue suit. He teared up as he thought of the pair of eyes it resembled. He didn’t even know why he cared about the outfit. He was feeling awfully numb, lately.

He climbed out of the limo, alone. Could he have brought a date? Sure. Did he want to? Not particularly. At least he knew that Niall was around here, somewhere.

He had also checked to make sure that Pentatonix wasn’t nominated. They weren’t. Somehow, this made Harry both relieved and overcome with sadness at the same time.

If one more interviewer asked about Scott, he was going to blow his own brains out and make sure that his grey matter ended up all over them. So far, so good, as far as this event was concerned. Maybe it was officially considered to be old news.

He made eye contact with some all-to-familiar pretty brown eyes as he was stopped for a photo.

Kendall Jenner.

 _Fuck_ Kendall Jenner.

And before he knew it, she was inches from him. He couldn’t read her expression.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice was genuine, and yet Harry hated her no less.

“You kind of ruined the best thing I’ve had in a long time.” It came out sounding stern. He tried not to cry right here on this red carpet.

“I was so drunk, H… I sobered up immediately when I saw how upset you were… but it was too late. I wish I could tell you what I was thinking…” she reached out to touch his elbow, and he pulled it away, gently.

“Are you looking for more photos with me?” gesturing to the cameras around them.

“Harry… I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry. That’s it. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Can you turn back time?” His eyes were narrow. He had to look away from her before he lost it.

Standing over her shoulder, on the other side of the carpet… not fifty feet from them… Scott was smirking coldly at him.

Harry blinked frantically, assuming that this must be a mirage.

Nope. Scott was there, breathtakingly handsome as ever, and Matt was leaning in to say something in his ear as his beautiful blue eyes turned icy. His sharp jawline was covered in a light layer of stubble, just the way Harry craved. He gave Harry a small, taunting wave, before turning his back to him.

Kendall turned to figure out what Harry was looking at. She sighed, realizing that he was gazing at what she had ruined.

“Let me talk to him.”

“Absolutely not. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Let me fix it.”

“There’s no fixing it. He _hates_ me.”

“No one in the world hates you, Harry.”

“Scott Hoying certainly does.”

Before he could finish his thought, she was halfway to the man in question. Harry cursed under his breath, feeling his pulse quicken painfully.

It was as though he was watching the aftermath of a car accident. He wanted desperately to look away, but he couldn’t peel his eyes from the scene across the carpet. Kendall reached out for Scott’s hand, and he shook it, smiling politely. He looked completely unphased.

Harry had never felt more distant from him. He turned away, then, refusing to let anyone take photos of him as his heart broke in real time, all over again.

Kelly Clarkson took the stage for her opening act. Harry had always appreciated Kelly. Her talent was unparalleled, and she was just downright _nice._ Next thing he knew, however, Kevin was next to her, beginning to play a haunting melody on his cello.

Pentatonix took the stage one by one, slowly, joining Kelly as she sang _Higher Love._ Harry found himself holding his breath each time Scott opened his mouth, complimenting Kelly’s voice with riffs and runs that sounded like silk. He looked happy. Harry couldn’t stand it.

He cursed himself for being so selfish.

Backstage, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to pull this off. He had thought of this idea when he didn’t know that Scott was going to be in the audience.

“Harry Styles, you’re up,” a stage assistant whispered. He straightened his jacket, took a deep breath, and walked slowly out into the spotlight.

He couldn’t smile. He forgot how to. He sat at the piano and gently stroked the keys with his hands, trying to steady himself as the audience cheered. He waited for silence before beginning the opening chords.

And then, it was like he forgot that they were there.

“I’m in my bed, and you’re not here. And there’s no one to blame, but the drink and my wandering hands.”

Harry’s voice was shaking with emotion. He clenched his eyes shut, pouring his soul into the words. He had never meant what he was singing more in his life.

“Forget what I said, it’s not what I meant. And I can’t take it back, I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

He made it through the chorus and second verse. Now there were tears in his eyes as he continued. He was falling apart in front of the world right now. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“And I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again...”

Somehow, his voice didn’t crack with the belt. He paused his playing and the audience roared with applause. He could feel everyone rise to their feet without even looking. He didn’t care. This wasn’t for them. This was for him.

He thought about the day they wrote this song. Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy?

“What am I now? What am I now? What if you're someone I just want around? I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling. What if I’m down? What if I’m out? What if I’m someone you won’t talk about? I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

The chords faded out beneath his shaking hands and he hung his head with the last one. He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t risk seeing those eyes. He couldn’t risk seeing the lack of emotion in them.

If he had looked up, he would have seen an empty seat next to Mitch; a seat that Scott had abandoned because he had been breaking down in the bathroom since the bridge of the song.

He sat on a lonely couch at the afterparty, questioning why he was there at all. Maybe he was waiting for Scott to storm in and start a fight with him about how this wasn’t what he had in mind when he signed over the rights to the song.

Maybe he was hoping that when he did so, Harry would be ready for him, and that he would sweep him off of his feet. Maybe he would grab his face in between his hands and kiss him with every ounce of passion that he had within him, and Scott’s walls would break down and he would clutch Harry for dear life, whispering how much he needed him… all while the world would go on, ignoring them.

That would have been the perfect scenario, but he was broken out of that thought in the next moment. Harry forgot how to breathe when he saw Kirstie and Matt walk in, followed by Kevin.

Scott and Mitch weren’t with them.

Before he could stop to think, he had crossed the room and was face-to-face with Kirstie. She smiled sadly at him, looking uncomfortable as Matt and Kevin moved closer to her.

“Hi,” Harry said, his voice shaking again.

“Hi, Harry,” Kevin spoke for them, placing his hand on the small of Kirstie’s back, attempting to guide them away.

“You were fantastic tonight. Especially you, Kev. Love the cello.” Harry positioned himself in front of them again, desperate for them to look at him.

“Thanks. You too. Pretty song,” Kirstie said with a tone of irony in her voice.

“Where’s my co-writer?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

“He wasn’t feeling up to it. Not feeling too well. Mitch took him home,” Matt chimed in.

Harry’s heart sank. “Okay. Have fun tonight, yeah?”

“You too, Harry.” There was a glimmer of sympathy in Kevin’s eyes for a moment as he said it, but it was quickly replaced with anger as they walked away.

A hand clapped him on the back, squeezing the back of his neck afterwards.

“You hangin’ in?” the Irish brogue let him know exactly who it was before he even laid eyes on Niall.

“Not really.”

“You’ll be okay. One way or another. Hopefully he’ll let you in again, yeah?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. I don’t think… I don’t think he cares enough, anymore.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“No joke…”

“Well, let’s take a moment to think of the facts here, eh?” Niall turned to look him in the eye. “He isn’t here… he probably can’t face you without breaking down. And your performance? Did you happen to see him?”

Harry’s heart began to race. “No.”

“He got up and left.”

Now his heart was sinking. “I’m failing to see how that is a positive thing.”

“He looked like he was trying not to cry. There are clearly still some real, raw feelings there,” Niall shrugged. “What happened with Kendall? I saw her talking to him.”

“I have no idea. I can’t imagine it was good. Look, I’m gonna go. Love you, mate.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He had to get out of there. 


	15. Part of Me Died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I will say about this chapter is: You're very welcome :)

Scott woke up to the feeling of bony arms and legs wrapped around his body. He looked down, thanking God for Mitch Grassi, who was the best damn friend he could ask for. He was still asleep, holding onto Scott’s waist for dear life. He had taken care of him again. He hugged him close, smiling fondly as he groaned in response to the squeezing of his small frame.

“You trying to pop my lungs or something, Hoying?” His eyes were still closed, and he nuzzled his face into Scott’s chest.

Scott laughed, gently. “Thanks for staying with me last night, Mitchy,” he whispered, running his hand lazily up and down Mitch’s back. “I know you probably wanted to go to the party.”

Mitch opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re more important. I know that Harry blindsided you with that song. Not cool. I hated to see you falling apart over it in the bathroom afterwards. Broke my heart, Samantha.”

“I’m an embarrassment.”

“You’re not. And just in case you were wondering… I think Harry was crying by the end of it.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Scott’s voice sounded more hopeful than he had intended.

“He was. He wouldn’t look at the crowd when he was done. His eyes were glistening, too. I think he’s really struggling.”

Scott shrugged and remained silent.

“What did Kendall say to you last night? I wanted to punch her pretty little face for you.”

Scott let out small laugh. “She wanted to let me know that the photos and videos were an exaggeration of what had happened. She said that they were both very drunk, and that while her actions were ‘unforgiveable’” he put his fingers up in air quotes, “Harry pushed her off of him right after the photo was taken. She said he looked mortified and that she was surprised there were no photos or videos of what happened after the kiss, because he looked panicked and upset and it was heartbreaking to watch. I don’t know, something like that.”

Mitch was quiet for a moment. “Do you believe her?”

“I don’t know. They were talking again last night.”

“I saw that.”

“Yeah, so I guess they can’t keep their hands off of each other.”

“Well, he looked mad.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Mitch groaned. “Harry looked like he wanted to kill her, Scott.”

“They were flirting. Her hands were on him and everything.”

“Scott, he was clearly _whisper-yelling_ at her.”

Scott was quiet now. Mitch continued, “Do you think that maybe this was a misunderstanding? And that, maybe, even though Harry made a mistake, it isn’t the catastrophic mistake that you thought he made?”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to get my hopes up. I need to forget that any of this ever happened.”

Mitch sighed and unlocked his phone. He typed frantically for a moment, and Scott cocked an eyebrow in interest. He shoved his phone into Scott’s hands a minute later.

“Watch,” Mitch urged.

It was a video of the performance from the night before. “Mitch… I don’t…”

“Watch,” Mitch pressed again.

Scott listened as Harry’s voice wavered at certain parts. He watched as Harry’s eyes filled with tears and he would blink them away before letting them fall. He listened to the emotions spill off of Harry’s lips as he belted the bridge. He watched as Harry hung his head in response to the roaring applause. It was like he was watching Harry’s heart being ripped from his chest, and left bleeding on the stage. It was vulnerable, and it was beautiful.

He looked at the top of the page. The headline read: ****_Watch– Styles Begs Hoying for Forgiveness with Heart-wrenching Performance._****

And so here Scott was, standing on Harry’s doorstep. He had only been here once before. It was just as intimidating as it had been the first time.

He shuffled on his feet, nervously, running his hand through his perfectly styled hair (he had spent way longer on it than he cared to admit before coming here).

This was stupid. What were the odds that the man was even home?

Then the door opened. Scott forgot how to speak as he was met with the handsome face, within a foot of the man for the first time in months. He placed his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to keep from reaching out to touch him.

His heart sank at the look of surprise on Harry’s face.

_Oh, God. What if he has someone over? What if he’s moved on? What if Kendall is inside?_

His mind was racing, and he realized suddenly that he must look like an absolute imbecile.

“Hi, Harry,” he said. His own voice was gravelly, and he nearly cringed at the sound.

“Hi, Scott,” Harry replied, looking like he was staring at a ghost. “Um… would you like to come in?”

“I can, um… I can come back another time…” Scott had suddenly never been so unsure of himself in his entire life.

“No, no… now’s good. Please… Please come in?” Harry’s voice was pleading.

Scott walked in the house, silently. He was so nervous he thought his knees might give out. He felt like a baby giraffe walking for the first time.

He allowed Harry to lead him to a couch and he sat at the edge of it, as though he was ready to spring to his feet and sprint away if this went south.

Harry sat across from him, leaning forward and resting his arms on his own lap. His eyes were searching Scott’s face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he was afraid of scaring Scott away.

“I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, to be honest.” Scott looked at his feet, preparing for heartache again.

“Say what’s on your mind. Please.” Harry nearly begged. Scott could see Harry struggling not to reach out towards him. Somehow, this made him feel a bit better.

“Why haven’t you… moved on?” Scott asked, surprising even himself with the question. That wasn’t planned at all.

Harry looked equally taken aback. Scott continued. “It seemed so… trivial. Three weeks. With a _nobody_.” He watched Harry flinch at the last word, but he kept going. “Fizzled quickly. And yet… you kept texting. Kendall spoke to me, you know… and then… the performance...”

“Because I’m not ready to let you go,” Harry interrupted.

Scott felt a lump form in his throat. He begged himself not to cry.

“ _Why_?”

“Do you want me to? Do you want me to let you go?”

“I don’t know. I… I thought I did. Then the anger was gone and I was left feeling… empty.”

“I’ve been feeling empty since New York. That’s why I can’t move on. All I think about is what I ruined.”

“There wasn’t much to ruin, though.” Scott said, trying to rationalize the situation to himself as much as he was to Harry.

“I ruined _everything.”_ Harry insisted. His eyes conveyed a desperate seriousness, and they took Scott’s breath away.

Harry continued. “I was… so _excited_ to get to know you. You were so special, so unique… so unlike anyone I had ever met. I was falling so hard for you and it was terrifying. When her lips met mine, I felt like my life was ending. Louis saw it in my eyes. He _insists_ that part of me died that night.”

The last part would have been funny if Harry’s eyes weren’t filled to the brim with tears. Scott wanted to hold him terribly.

Instead, he moved quickly, nearly jumping onto the couch with Harry, straddling his waist as Harry had done to him before. He reached up to Harry’s throat, slamming his lips against his.

While he had pictured a soft and gentle reunion as his best-case scenario, this certainly wasn’t it. They were aggressively fighting for dominance. Harry was pushing against his chest, attempting to shift them so he could be on top. Scott wasn’t allowing this, and kissed him harder, grinding down against him in protest. Harry was moaning into his throat, clawing at Scott’s shirt now.

Scott reached around Harry’s back, flipping him onto his back against the sofa cushions. Then his strong hands were gone, and Harry whimpered.

“Better than Kendall?” he growled.

“Better than anything.” Harry moaned, reaching out for him. His eyes were full of a mixture of guilt and lust.

Scott’s lips crashed down again as he sprawled his longer body across the one below him. He felt the cold air against his chest as the buttons of his shirt were opened. He couldn’t pull away from the lips against his. He was like an addict who had been in withdrawal for way too long. The intensity of his own lust almost worried him.

He shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders as Harry’s hands explored his chest. He reached down to rip the t-shirt off of the leaner man. It came off in one quick motion. Scott’s dick twitched painfully at the sight below him.

Harry’s muscles were taut against his frame. He wanted to kiss each tattoo, lick each muscle…

Harry was gazing at him in a way that suggested that the feeling was mutual.

“I owe you, now,” Harry murmured, reaching for Scott’s fly. Scott knew that they should stop. He knew that if they went any further, he was going to get hurt. Somehow, he was able to push this intrusive thought to the back of his mind just as Harry grabbed onto his length. Harry’s eyes widened as he began to stroke him.

“Fuck… you’re huge.”

Scott nibbled on the nape of Harry’s neck in response. Harry’s body was trembling beneath him. He paused, locking eyes with the beautiful face below him.

“Okay?” His voice was gentle now. Harry nodded frantically.

“Need to see you,” Harry replied, breathlessly.

Scott stood from the couch. Instead of peeling his own jeans off, he reached down and ripped Harry’s jeans and briefs off in one motion. The sight below him made his cock leak agonizingly.

He stood again, pulling his jeans down. Harry looked at him, his eyes exploding with lust.

“Take those off, _please.”_ Harry begged. It was almost unhealthy how much Scott loved to hear him beg. He slowly pulled his boxer-briefs off, exposing the part of himself that Harry had been so eager to see weeks ago.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Harry moaned.

“No. Scott Richard Hoying.” Scott replied simply, crawling back between Harry’s legs.

Harry reached urgently for his length and pumped him again, never breaking eye contact.

“Want you. Want this. God, _need this.”_ Harry muttered.

“How do you want this?” Scott asked, between chaste kisses to Harry’s face.

“In me. Now.” Scott nearly came at the sound of those words.

His mind began to race. He cursed his damn brain. Had Harry ever done this before? He didn’t want to ask and to have it taken the wrong way, considering that their last conversation involved accusations of experimentation.

Harry clearly noticed that something was wrong. “We don’t have to… if you don’t… want this.” He sounded so _vulnerable_.

Scott sat up, running a hand through his hair. Harry looked up at him, glancing longingly at his cock every few moments, like he wanted to devour it.

“Have you… before?”

Harry laughed, calmly. Scott took that as a good sign.

“You’re not my first. I don’t know where you got that from…. Not that I’ve been with _a lot_ of men…” he started rambling once he realized how that sounded. Scott laughed, fondly, before his eyes glimmered with lust again.

He raised his hand up to Harry’s face. Harry took his index and middle fingers into his mouth, greedily. Scott almost died watching him suck on them, wanting to replace them with another part of himself.

Scott thought he might come then and there. He withdrew his fingers, and teased Harry’s entrance with his index finger, eliciting a long moan from the beautiful lips below. He pushed into him with one finger, slowly, relishing in how Harry’s back arched and his hands gripped at his shoulders in desperation. He was impressed with his own dexterity as he used his other hand to open his wallet, retrieve a condom, and put it on, almost expertly.

“More. Need more of you.” Scott complied with the request, slipping a second finger into him, scissoring his fingers and loving every second of this moment, as he sucked on Harry’s neck.

“Please. All of you. Please.” Scott was overcome with desire to be inside the body below him. He couldn’t believe that Harry was unravelling underneath him, that _he_ was the one making him shudder with yearning.

He removed his fingers and placed himself at Harry’s entrance. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he moved forward into him. He couldn’t even comprehend which one of them had made the noise, he was so overcome with his need for him.

He started off slowly, watching for any sign that he was hurting him. He pumped in and out of him, nearly pulling out completely before slamming back inside. He picked up the pace as Harry’s whimpers and moans became stronger.

And he reveled in every moment as those green eyes stared back at him. He couldn’t fully comprehend what emotion was emanating from them.

It almost looked… like love.

Funny how similar lust and love can look, he supposed.

He knew he was hitting his prostate when Harry’s back arched again. “Fuck…” He groaned. “Gonna…”

Scott reached between them, pumping Harry’s cock as he continued to thrust, changing his pace in a teasing way.

Harry exploded into his hand, biting his lip as he did so. Scott couldn’t take it anymore. Within the next three thrusts, he finished with a loud moan. He collapsed onto the body below, feeling like he suddenly had no bones left in his body.

Their chests were against each other, their hearts thumping loudly against their ribs. It felt _right_ to lay there like this.

“Are we even, again?” Harry whispered, running his hands through Scott’s hair.

“Yes. But do me a favor?” Scott breathed. Harry looked into his eyes with a serious expression.

“Anything,” Harry replied.

“Let’s try not to owe each other so much anymore. Let’s go Dutch, so-to-speak.” Harry threw his head back, laughing at the response.

“That’s definitely a deal, handsome. Will you do me a favor, too?”

Scott froze, worried about what Harry was thinking. “Depends,” he said, attempting to sound humorous. “What is it?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was a good enough reunion! I am up to Chapter 22 in my whole writing process and I admit I got a bit... carried away in my most recent chapter... Sadistic me came out again and I'M JUST SORRY IN ADVANCE, OK?


	16. Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I feel the need to let you all know before you read this, that Louis Tomlinson is my favorite member of One Direction. So please don't kill me, I love him.
> 
> Also, who listened to the new Christmas album? "Thank You" made me sob in my car.

Harry stepped out of the SUV and reached back inside. His boyfriend’s hand grasped his own and he pulled the taller man to his feet, taking a deep breath.

Scott looked perfect tonight. Harry had never been prouder to be with someone.

Only two days had passed since Scott had agreed to this relationship. Harry was determined to hold onto him for as long as he possibly could.

Tonight was their first big test: Their first public appearance together. Harry thought he might throw up.

Harry did typically love a good release party. It was much more laid back than the other types of parties in the business, and when it wasn’t his own event, he was particularly relaxed. He was also extremely excited for his best friend. He knew Louis had been nervous to release an entire album on his own. Harry just hoped that ‘Walls’ would be treated with the respect it deserved.

Was Louis going to kill him when he rolled into his party with a boyfriend about whom he hadn’t told him, yet? Probably. Harry laughed under his breath at the thought of what his face will likely look like when he sees them together.

“Ready, gorgeous?” Harry asked, holding Scott’s hand tightly. There were cameras everywhere, snapping photos every millisecond. Harry knew that every photo would capture the same thing:

Harry was head over heels.

Scott squeezed his hand in confirmation, smiling softly. He appeared to be much calmer than he had been at Sur. He allowed Harry to lead him in the door.

And there were arms wrapped around each of them within one moment of walking through the threshold.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! I am so _fucking_ excited to see you,” Niall exclaimed as he released Scott. Harry feigned offense.

“Hello, friendly reminder that I’m here, too,” Harry said. Niall turned to him, grinning, as Liam let Harry go, reaching out to switch positions with Niall and embrace Scott.

“Sorry, Hazza. You’re just not as exciting as this one.”

They all laughed, warmly. Harry felt his heart flutter, knowing that his friends were already so comfortable with the man that Harry cared for so deeply. He hoped Louis felt the same.

“I’m not sure how it’s possible that you’re here, in all seriousness, but I have to say, I’m so glad.” Liam added, looking at Scott.

“Had to come meet the third and final best friend of my boyfriend, after all.”

Liam and Niall’s mouths fell open.

“When did this happen?” Niall asked after a moment, clearly trying to hide his excitement.

“Two days ago,” Harry smiled, unable to contain it.

“I knew it. I knew that when you left your heart on that stage, Scott would know how much he meant to you,” Liam said, clapping a hand on Scott’s shoulder. He frowned when he realized how tense Scott’s muscles were below his hand.

“So… so it was a setup,” Scott replied, a serious expression flashing across his face, his eyes turning dark. Harry held his breath.

“What? No…” Liam looked horrified.

Harry reached out to grab Scott’s hand, but the blond pulled it away as though he had been burned. Harry nearly broke down in tears immediately. Harry’s eyes darted to Niall, who looked like he might cry for him.

“Guys, I’m kidding.” Scott added after another painful moment passed. His mouth formed a beautiful smile, and Harry felt as though his heart could start beating again.

Niall reached out and hit Scott in the chest. “Not funny, Hoying. I nearly shit myself.”

“What is going on here?” a distinct accent shouted over the music. Harry smiled, reaching for Scott’s hand again. This time, Scott didn’t pull away.

Harry had known that Scott was nervous to meet Louis. There were several reasons for this, including but not limited to the following facts: most of the world wanted Harry and Louis to be in a relationship, Louis had a rather loud personality, and of course, that he was there the night of Harry’s… mistake. Scott had also ignored a text message from Louis that night, but he assumed that this could be forgiven, at least.

“Hazza! Took you long enough to get here,” Louis yelled, embracing his friend. Harry pulled away, looking at his watch.

“The party only started 15 minutes ago, Lou.”

“Exactly. Took you long enough! At least you brought me a present, though,” Louis replied, looking Scott up and down. Harry instinctively moved closer to the taller man, despite the fact that he knew his friend was teasing him.

“Mine,” Harry replied, patting Scott’s chest, affectionately, and pouting.

“Scott,” Scott said, after a moment, reaching out his hand. Louis took it, shaking it enthusiastically.

“Louis. Nice to meet you, finally. I’m chuffed you came out tonight. Thanks so much.”

Scott smiled and Louis shot Harry a look that screamed, ‘Okay, I get the appeal.’

“So… you two are… speaking again I see,” Louis said, slowly, eyes searching the pair in front of him.

“We’re speaking as much as your average people in a relationship do, yeah.” Harry replied.

“Relationship?” Louis replied with his eyebrows raised in surprise, his eyes darting between Niall and Liam, who were nodding enthusiastically. “Well, I’m happy for you, Hazza. I know how much he means to you.”

He stepped on his tip toes to whisper-yell into Scott’s ear. “I will absolutely, 100% kill you if you hurt this man, yeah?”

Scott smiled handsomely again, nodding. “Noted.”

“Good, good. Well, new friend, let’s take some shots.”

They probably should have stopped after one or two, but 5 shots later, Scott, Harry, Liam, Niall, and Louis were laughing at literally everything.

“You should have brought _your_ group,” Louis shouted into Scott’s ear, later, and Scott flinched from the volume. “Sorry, mate,” Louis added, smiling bashfully.

“It’s ok, I have another ear, anyway,” Scott replied, laughing. “I’m sure they would have loved to come. We’re all big fans of yours.”

“Hazza should have told me you were coming, the wanker. I would have insisted.”

“Hi, Lou. Hi, Harry. Scott. Hey.” Kendall’s voice called over the music. She looked beautiful again, in a short, black dress. Harry wanted to disappear. Why wouldn’t Louis have told him that she was coming?

“Hey, Kendall,” Scott replied, reaching out to hug her. Harry was amazed at how warm he was being. Harry also noted her relieved smile as he did this. They let each other go and she turned to Harry. Instead of reaching out to her, however, Harry found himself grabbing onto his boyfriend’s bicep again. Kendall laughed, nervously.

Five minutes later, Scott and Kendall were still talking. No, they weren’t talking. Scott was talking, and she was _cackling_ with laughter. Leave it to Scott to turn someone who should be an enemy into a fan of his. Somehow, this wasn’t surprising, and somehow, Harry actually loved this quality about him. Scott could easily make anyone fall in love with him. Harry was sure of this.

And then, Scott pulled Harry to the dance floor.

“I was over that conversation, sorry,” Scott mumbled, pulling Harry’s body close to him. Harry was covered in goosebumps instantly.

“Don’t ever be sorry for being this close to me,” Harry laughed, pressing his nose against Scott’s. Scott smirked seductively before taking Harry by the hips, effectively swinging him around so his back was to Scott’s chest.

They danced together, uninterrupted, for what felt like only a few minutes, but their sweat told them otherwise. At least an hour had passed. They collapsed onto a couch together, their breathing heavy.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Harry leaned in to mutter in Scott’s ear. After a nod of confirmation from Scott, Harry pecked him on the lips and retreated to the bar.

While waiting, his eyes scanned the room. He was very happy for Louis. There were a ton of people here. He smiled, proudly.

That smile faded when his eyes were back on the couch he had left. Liam and Niall were on either side of Scott, the three bodies filling the couch. That, of course, wasn’t the problem. The problem was Louis, who sauntered over and flopped down directly into Scott’s lap. His horror continued when Louis’s hand ran through his boyfriend’s blond hair before leaning in to whisper something to him, his other hand rubbing slowly against Scott’s chest.

A look of discomfort flashed across Scott’s face. Abandoning the drinks, Harry crossed the room in a few strides.

“Louis, can I borrow you for a minute?” Harry asked, the tension seeping out of his words.

“Alright,” Louis shrugged and hopped off of Scott’s lap. Scott turned his attention to Liam, finishing a story that he had previously started.

“What’s up, lad?” Louis asked once they had found a slightly quieter corner.

“Stop that.” Harry’s voice was low and threatening.

“Beg pardon?” Louis sounded a bit bored.

“What did you say to him?” Harry asked, ignoring his friend’s response.

“I was breaking him in. Hazing him a bit. You know? He was good, lad, no wandering hands or anything. Very respectful.”

“Breaking him in?” Harry asked, more so angry than confused.

“You know. I do it all the time with your little flings. I go up, flirt a bit, whisper a few naughty words in their ear, feel for any sort of… reaction, if possible,” he raised his eyebrows, “and see if they’re actually serious about you.”

“You… you do _what?”_ Harry was mortified. “You said you do this all the time?”

“Yeah, mate. I gotta say, your new one passed with flying colors. Kind of sad about it, really.” Harry couldn’t tell if he was teasing, or if he should punch him in the face.

“Please don’t call him my new one.”

“Okay, your new plaything?” Okay, he should _definitely_ punch him in the face. Louis was looking at him, as though challenging him to see how far he’d go. “I have to hand it to you, Hazza. This one is a step up. I’d take him to bed in an instant.”

Harry leaned in to whisper the next few words into Louis’ ear. “You will never touch him again, do you understand?” and with an icy glare, Harry returned to Scott, reaching down for his hand. Scott looked at him, confused, but trusted him anyway, placing his hand in his. Harry’s heart fluttered with that realization.

“We’re leaving,” Harry huffed. Scott squeezed his hand supportively.

“Okay,” he said, softly.

“Wait, what? Why?” Liam asked, shocked.

“I had forgotten that Louis is a bloody _animal,”_ Harry replied, leading Scott out of the party.

So much for that first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Luckily I think anyone who is reading this is more of a PTX fan than 1D, but my fellow Louies scaaaaare meeeeee...
> 
> Also, there is some more smut coming your way. Think of it as my apology.
> 
> Ok, gonna go listen to this album again and again and again and again...


	17. You're Mine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's a smutty one as my apology. Yay! ... But it's only half of the smutty scene. My bad. You'll have to wait for part 2.

Harry nearly threw Scott into the back of the car when it arrived. Muttering an apology, he ran to the other side, climbing in silently. For the next few minutes, Scott snuck glimpses at his boyfriend, who was glaring out the window.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, reaching for Harry’s hand.

“What for?” Harry’s eyes softened significantly at the sound of Scott’s voice, which made Scott feel a bit better. He looked at Harry silently for the next few moments, trying to figure out what to say.

“I have no idea. But I feel like you’re mad.” Scott grimaced, comically, and Harry’s face broke into a smile.

“Not at you, love. Never at you.” Harry squeezed his hand for emphasis, looking into his eyes before returning to look out the window.

“You’re mad at Louis. Why?”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Harry asked abruptly, instead of answering the previous question. Scott’s eyes widened briefly.

“Oh. He was very drunk, Harry.”

“That’s not an excuse. You looked horrified. What did he say?”

“What did he say he said?” Scott countered.

“He said he was hazing you, to see how you would react,” Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he laughed, lightly.

“Why? What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter. He was kidding.” Scott knew this answer wasn’t enough. He braced himself.

“Tell me.”

Scott sighed. “He asked if he could… ‘take me for a spin’ later,” Scott replied, raising his fingers to put air quotes around Louis’ words. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Harry’s face in that moment. He knew Harry was seeing red.

“I’ll kill him.”

“Babe, don’t. It was a bad joke.” He paused. “Really bad.”

“He had no right to talk to you that way.”

“It kind of seems like that’s just his sense of humor, no?”

Harry paused, and looked out the window again. Scott wondered if he had hit the nail on the head.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s just always been a shitty friend and I didn’t notice.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“He was there with me the night I messed everything up. Then, he invited Kendall tonight without even telling me. And then he treated you that way. Rubbish friend, that is.”

“Harry, I think you might be overreacting…”

“Overreacting?” Harry’s voice was high-pitched and bordering on hysterical. “No one speaks to you that way. No one. Understood?”

Scott was dumbfounded. He had no answer to this. He knew Harry was drunk and irrational. He thought of a headline he had read a year or so ago. It had been something about how Harry Styles admits he is a jealous type. Bingo.

“Okay.” Scott replied, softly. Apparently, that word was enough to bring Harry back down to earth. He could see Harry’s muscles relax for the first time since they entered the car.

“You know I’m yours, right?” Scott asked after some more silence. They were nearly at his house now.

“Promise?” Harry asked.

“I promise,” Scott echoed, leaning down to press a kiss on his boyfriend’s shoulder as they pulled into his driveway.

Scott put the key in the door, feeling Harry’s hand resting on the small of his back as he did so.

His mind was racing as he pulled on sweatpants and a muscle tank, while Harry was in the bathroom. Harry still didn’t fully seem himself, and probably wouldn’t until he could fix things with Louis.

His mind was still focused on this when arms snaked around his waist from behind. He felt the younger man’s lips press between his shoulder blades. He pulled the comforter back on his bed, crawling in and making grabby-hands towards his boyfriend. Harry complied readily, pressing up against him.

“Goodnight, handsome,” Scott whispered.

The only answer he received was Harry’s soft, even breathing in his sleep.

The next morning, Scott was ready for the hangover to hit. He opened his eyes and realized, however, that he actually felt fine. It was a miracle.

He placed a kiss on the back of Harry’s head, who was pressed up against his front. He was surprised when Harry turned over, appearing to be wide awake already.

“Morning,” Harry whispered with a small smile.

“G’morning.” Scott replied, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He could lay like this all day.

“Did you mean it?” Harry whispered after a few moments.

“Did I mean what?” Scott asked into his neck.

“You’re mine?”

Scott paused. He lifted his gaze slowly to meet Harry’s. They were full of worry. It nearly broke Scott’s heart. He had honestly thought Harry wouldn’t even remember the conversation from last night.

“I’m yours.”

“Can you… can you prove it to me?” Harry sounded unsure. Scott was beginning to feel nervous. He placed a soft kiss to the slightly smaller man’s temple, trying to convey how he felt with the action.

“You name it, I’ll do it. Within reason,” Scott tried to sound light, and smiled when Harry smirked at him.

Then, suddenly, he was on his back, looking up at Harry, bewildered by the sudden change.

“Will you let me… make love to you?” Harry asked, appearing nervous again. Scott laughed gently, placing his hands on the brunette’s hips.

“That’s an easy feat, considering we’ve done that already,” Scott replied, feeling himself harden slightly at just the thought.

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. Scott raised an eyebrow as Harry leaned in.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispered in his ear. His tone wasn’t seductive, it was pleading.

Scott nodded, wordlessly, suddenly forgetting how to speak. And then, his clothes were being peeled off, one by one, and Harry was attacking his neck and chest with his lips. He couldn’t contain the moan as it escaped him, just as Harry reached down to take his length into his hand.

Scott reached chaotically for his end table, pulling the drawer open and reaching inside, desperately. Finding what he was looking for, he got straight to work.

He hadn’t bottomed in a long time, and the thought of Harry filling him up made his dick ache as he reached forward to put the condom on the man hovering over him, attempting to keep his cool as Harry’s dick leaked into his hand.

He took out a bottle of lube next, and looked up at the green eyes that were now staring deeply into his as Harry reached out his hand.

Complying, Scott covered Harry’s fingers in the substance, exhaling sharply in anticipation as Harry reached down to spread his legs.

Harry gently pressed a finger into him, and Scott immediately needed more. Harry leaned down to Scott’s ear, and placed a kiss just underneath his earlobe, before whispering, “Thank you.”

“More.” Scott replied, gruffly.

A second finger joined the first, scissoring within him. He reached up to grab his headboard in an effort to ground himself. Harry placed another kiss, this time on his bicep, right on one of his aster flowers, and whispered again. “You’re even more beautiful this way.”

“Please.” Scott replied with the only word he could utter. He was so turned on, his whole body was throbbing.

The fingers were gone and Scott whimpered. Needing Harry inside of him, he braced himself when he felt Harry’s tip press lightly against his entrance.

Harry leaned forward and they groaned in unison as Scott was filled again. His hands tightened on the headboard.

“Jesus.” Harry breathed, remaining still for a moment.

“Move.” Scott growled, desperately. Harry reached for Scott’s hipbones, gripping them tightly as he moved in and out of him in a painfully slow manner.

Scott had had enough. Harry was teasing him, and it was killing him. He pushed up, rolling them over while Harry remained inside of him. Harry groaned agonizingly beautifully. Harry bucked into him, snaking his arm around his waist and pulling him down by his hips so he bottomed out inside the blond. Scott pulled Harry upwards by his back, wrapping his legs around him, so Harry was seated with Scott in his lap. Harry appeared to enjoy this position, leaning forward to kiss and suck at any skin he could find as Scott rode him.

Scott’s mouth latched onto Harry’s pulse point, and he used the skin there to muffle his own moans as Harry moved inside of him in just the right way.

“You’re so fucking _good_ ,” Harry groaned, his hand finding Scott’s ass, clutching it for dear life, giving Scott the confidence to bounce up and down on him. It hurt, but it hurt in a fantastic way.

Harry shifted beneath him just enough that he was able to crash against Scott’s prostate. Scott let out a mixture of a whimper and a scream, and bit down on Harry’s shoulder. Harry stilled, immediately, his hands moving to clutch Scott’s waist.

“Scott, look at me.” His voice was soft and gentle, and suddenly full of concern. Scott looked up into his eyes, trying to convey that he was alright, wordlessly. He wasn’t sure if he could even speak. Harry leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Tell me you’re okay?” Harry asked, and Scott’s heart melted. He leaned in, capturing Harry’s lips with his own.

“I’m fucking amazing,” Scott groaned.

“That, you are,” Harry replied, running his hands down the blond’s sides before gripping his ass again.

They were certainly going to have to take turns from now on, if Scott had any say in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted some of this scene to be in Harry's POV, so I'm sorry for leaving you guys in the middle of the scene like this!


	18. On One Condition

“Tell me you’re okay?” Harry’s heart was pounding, but it felt like it stopped as Scott emitted the pained noise. Scott’s lips found his, and Harry instantly knew that everything was alright.

“I’m fucking amazing,” Scott groaned. Harry’s heart felt like it could beat again.

“That, you are,” Harry replied. He ran his hands down his boyfriend’s sides before letting them fall onto his ass, squeezing him there.

Harry didn’t want this to end. He wished he could figure out a way to keep himself from finishing, but he could feel his orgasm coming quickly as he slammed into the body above him. He watched as Scott’s stomach muscles stretched beneath his skin as his back arched and Harry hit his prostate again. Harry bit his lip, willing himself not to release yet. He wanted to watch Scott like this for a little longer. He wanted to make Scott feel this good for as long as possible. He wanted to hear these sounds for the rest of his life. Knowing that he was doing this to Scott made him feel more powerful as each minute passed.

Harry ran a hand up and down Scott’s abdomen as Scott continued to bounce on top of him. Then, Harry pushed at him, and Scott was on his back again.

Harry withdrew and crawled off of the bed. Scott inhaled sharply, and Harry knew exactly how he felt. There was nothing worse than being so close, and then feeling so suddenly empty. Harry knew he had to fix that.

He grabbed Scott’s ankles and pulled him to the edge of the bed. Standing over him, Harry lined himself up again before plunging back in, allowing his new position to let him pump in and out of him with more force, and giving himself control again. Scott’s breathing was erratic and there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

The hottest part, though? That was watching his hands clutch beautifully at the bedsheets as his back arched. Harry was pounding into him now, abandoning all of his worry, and wanting desperately to make Scott scream his name.

Then he found what he was looking for, again.

“F-f-fuck,” Scott’s eyes were clamped shut as Harry slammed into his prostate again and again. Almost what Harry was looking for, but not quite, yet.

Harry reached between them and grabbed Scott’s cock, alternating teasingly between pumping it and squeezing at its base, eliciting more beautiful whimpers from the body below. He groaned in response, feeling himself nearing his edge, again.

His hand moved more quickly now, his other gripping Scott’s hip so tightly he was sure it would bruise, as he bucked into Scott with as much force as he thought the blond could handle.

“Ha-rry, fuck, Har- God,” Scott was panting, now, his words no longer making sense. So close.

“HARRY,” Scott yelled and his body shook as he exploded into Harry’s hand, and Harry couldn’t contain himself, between hearing his name and seeing the man coming apart below him. He thrusted through his own orgasm, moaning out Scott’s name, before leaning forward to kiss the forehead of the man looking up at him. He remained inside of him for a moment longer, feeling himself go soft before pulling out, slowly.

They were both covered in sweat. Harry kissed up and down Scott’s torso, lazily, feeling the thumping of Scott’s heart against his sternum beneath Harry’s lips. He slowly made his way up to Scott’s mouth, kissing him with as much tenderness as he could convey in the action.

“Mine?” Harry whispered.

“Yours,” Scott replied. They sat in a comfortable silence as Harry’s heart fluttered. “Yours any time you want.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“Thank _God._ ”

They had fallen asleep tangled up in each other, and awoke an hour later feeling sticky. Scott grumbled as Harry stirred. Harry peeled his sweaty flesh off of the skin splayed below him and Scott sat up, slowly, groaning, his handsome face forming a slight grimace. Harry reached out and rubbed his back.

“I don’t think I’ll ever walk again,” Scott muttered, rubbing his eyes. Harry felt a pang of guilt course through him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered against the blond’s shoulder. Before placing a chaste kiss there.

“I’m not,” Scott replied, smirking seductively. Harry fought against taking him right then and there, again.

“Shower?” Harry asked.

“An absolute necessity,” Scott answered, moving slowly from the bed, reaching for Harry’s hand. Harry took it, readily, eager to have the water running over them.

Harry re-entered the bedroom alone, while Scott went to the kitchen for some water. Harry pulled on the basketball shorts that Scott had provided to him, laughing fondly at how large they looked on his frame. Scott wasn’t much taller than he was, in the grand scheme of things, but the shorts hung comically on him. He threw the sweatshirt over his head afterwards, appreciating how the scent of his boyfriend hit his nose as he did so. He smiled fondly at how the sleeves were just a bit too long, creating paws.

His phone was suddenly buzzing on the nightstand.

_Louis Tomlinson wants to FaceTime_

Groaning, Harry reached for it before throwing himself on Scott’s bed. He hovered over the “Decline” button, but hit “accept” after a moment of guilt.

“Hi,” Louis said, timidly.

“Hi,” Harry replied, with an emptiness to his voice that surprised even himself.

“I’m told that we acted like right gits last night,” Louis added, running a hand through his hair. Anger bubbled up in Harry’s stomach.

“We?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay, I’m told that _I_ acted like a right git last night, but that you overreacted.”

Harry remained silent, his mouth forming a straight line.

“I don’t remember _exactly_ what I did, Haz, but maybe you can fill me in about why you just up and left me on one of the most important nights of my career.”

“You don’t remember what you did to Scott?” Harry asked, coldly.

“Liam and Niall weren’t really sure. They just told me I sat on his lap.”

“You ‘broke him in’,” Harry replied, emphasizing the words that Louis had used. “Your words, not mine.”

“What does that even mean, Hazza?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You said you were hazing him, like you’ve hazed all of my previous relationships. Which was news to me, mind you. And _then,_ you told me that you would take him to bed in an instant. But what killed me is what Scott told me you said to him.”

“What did I say?”

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t remember asking if you could sleep with him.”

“What? Haz, that’s got to be a lie.”

“Your exact words were to ‘take him for a spin,’” and Harry put up his fingers in air quotes as he glared into the camera. He decided to ignore the fact that Louis had just called his boyfriend a liar.

Then, Louis laughed. The anger was bubbling within Harry again. “It’s not funny.”

“Haz, you know me. I’d never do anything to hurt you. Not willingly. I’ve made jokes like that to everyone, _including you._ And Liam and Niall said he seemed fine up until the point you dragged him out of there. _”_

“Don’t do it about him. Don’t joke like that.” Harry was stone-faced, staring at the wall now. Louis read his body language and nodded slowly, reading Harry’s protectiveness.

“Noted. This one is important. I’m sorry, Hazza. I really am.” Louis’ voice was soft and sincere. Harry allowed his walls to come down, and looked back at his friend on the screen.

“Is Scott upset?” Louis asked, suddenly appearing to be uncomfortable.

“No. He didn’t take you seriously,” Harry grumbled.

“Well, good. I’m glad I didn’t ruin my chances at getting to know him. I definitely want to, if you’ll let me. I want to know this man who has you so… lovey.” Louis nearly sang.

“You don’t have the slightest clue, Lou,” And Harry’s eyes sparkled as he thought of him. Louis laughed, softly.

“I’m in town for a few more days. Maybe the three of us can do something.”

“Or maybe…” Harry looked down, wondering if he would regret this. “Maybe the two of you can spend some time together, _just_ the two of you.”

Louis nodded in agreement. “That sounds nice, Harry. I’m glad you trust me enough to let that happen.”

“Oh, I don’t trust you at all. But I do trust him,” Harry replied. Louis eyes widened as panic flashed across his features. Harry smiled. “Kidding.”

“Love you, Haz.”

“You too, Lou.”

“Oh, and Haz?”

“Yes, Tommo?”

“Nice clothes.” Louis smirked into the phone, giving him a small wink. Harry laughed, bringing his long sleeved arm to his face before pressing the ‘end’ button without another word. He jumped when the bedroom door swung open, revealing a grinning, adorable dope.

“You made up,” Scott sang.

“We made up,” Harry replied. He laughed as Scott moved slowly towards him, limping slightly for dramatic effect before pushing Harry backwards on the bed, effectively initiating cuddles.

“But wait, now I have to hang out with him alone?”

“It would mean a lot to me if you would try, yeah.” Harry was instantly nervous. Had he agreed to something that Scott wasn’t comfortable with?

“I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Anything, baby,” Harry replied, rubbing circles on Scott’s back.

“The day I do this, you hang out with Mitch.”

Harry liked that idea very much. 


	19. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some Louis being Louis, and Mitch being Mitch :)

The next day, Scott pulled the door open to the small, secluded restaurant that Louis had recommended. He intended to save a table for them, but was surprised to find that Louis was already seated at a small table in the back, browsing through his phone.

“Hey,” Scott’s loud voice boomed over Louis’ shoulder, and Louis yelped.

“Jesus _fooking_ Christ,” Louis breathed, allowing a smile to slip out. He stood up, slipping his phone in his pocket before reaching out to embrace the taller man.

“Sorry, had to get you back, somehow,” Scott replied, smiling as he squeezed Louis’ frame before taking a seat across from him.

“Before we get to it, let me apologize,” Louis said, softly. Scott was surprised. He had imagined that Louis would simply pretend that the conflict at the party had never happened, and Scott was fine with that.

Scott began to shake his head, but Louis spoke again before he could reply. “From what I’m told, what I said to you was completely out of line, and I’m sorry for… physically making you uncomfortable as well. I shouldn’t have sat on your lap and played with your hair… which, again, I don’t remember doing.” Louis was rambling and Scott found it endearing.

“I’ll stop you right there,” Scott laughed a little, holding his hands up. “Forget it, okay? Harry just got a bit protective. It wasn’t a big deal. We just have to get used to each other’s sense of humor.” 

“I’m afraid to even look at you, with how insane Harry is when it comes to you, if I’m being honest.” Louis laughed and pretended that he couldn’t make eye contact.

“He’s just trying to protect you.”

“ _Me?_ What do I need protection from?” Louis asked, confused.

“I’m actually a distant relative of Medusa. Look at me too long, and you’ll turn to stone.” Scott’s voice was low and serious. Louis looked up to lock eyes with him, and they sat in silence, trying not to be the first to break down in laughter.

Louis lost.

They spoke about their careers, their hometowns, their friends. The conversation flowed easily, and their stomachs hurt from laughing.

“In all seriousness, though. I was very nervous to meet you the other night.” Scott confessed after the laughter died down.

“Why’s that?” Louis’ look of confusion had returned.

“Harry and I haven’t discussed, you know… _Larry Stylinson.”_ Scott smirked.

“Ugh. Forget that rubbish.” Louis replied as two beers were set in front of them. They lifted their glasses and knocked them together in a silent ‘cheers’. Louis took a sip before continuing, “Two guys being as close as Harry and I are, the fans go nuts, you know?”

“Was there ever any truth to it?” Scott asked, sounding coy.

“Maybe at the very beginning, you know? Little crush on one another. Then you know, you’re with each other every second of every day and the sexiness sort of wears off… particularly when you notice that he doesn’t even lift the seat to take a piss…”

Scott nearly choked on his beer as he snorted with laughter.

“What? Haven’t noticed that one, yet?” Louis asked, grinning. “Anyway… for a while it took a toll on us. Our label was very… strict about us being in proximity to one another in interviews, it was kind of sad. Over time, we stopped listening to the noise and just focused on our friendship.”

“I get it. Our fans have always been convinced that Mitch and I are together,” Scott mused.

“Cute couple,” Louis pondered, honestly. Scott laughed. “Any truth to it?”

“We dated in high school. Very briefly. He rejected me preeeeeetty quickly,” Scott said, laughing slightly.

“What’s your ship name? Scotch Grassing? Because ‘Scotch’ is sort of brilliant.”

“No… it our ship name actually makes zero sense.” Louis looked at him, waiting.

“Scomiche. There are accents over the letters, too. Super… French?” Scott crinkled his nose.

“Wait.” Louis said, slowly. Scott complied, looking back at him, silently.

“Maisie Williams.” Scott continued to look at him, becoming confused. Louis laughed.

“From _Game of Thrones_. She wears a shirt that says that on it.” Scott laughed at Louis’ realization. “That’s you? I thought it was a fancy brand. Or a band name or something.” Louis was laughing lightly, now.

“Yes, we are all the rage in Winterfell.”

Louis laughed louder, now.

“Nah, she’s actually a friend of ours,” Scott replied, casually.

“Cheers to Scomiche taking over the iron throne, then.” They touched their glasses together, again. “You and Harry need a name.”

“Oh, it’s been done. You haven’t seen?” Louis shook his head. “Guess.”

“Um, Hott Hoyles?” Scott visibly cringed at Louis’ first guess.

“No. Thank God.”

“Oh, come on. Hott was good.” Scott simply blinked slowly in reply. “What is it, then?”

“Scarry Styling,” Scott provided, laughing.

Louis crinkled his nose, looking unenthused. “You got nothing on Larry Stylinson.”

“And you, my friend, got nothing on Scomiche.”

And Scott fully understood why this was Harry’s best friend.

Harry parked his car and took his shoes off. He scanned the beach for the small frame he was looking for, and found it surprisingly quickly. He walked slowly across the sand, clutching his towel and shoes to his chest. It was too chilly out for swimming or sunbathing, so barefoot was the best he could with his jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

“Hey, look who found me,” Mitch greeted, standing from his own towel to give Harry a hug.

“Nice to see you, Mitch,” Harry replied, embracing him.

“And under much better circumstances than last time,” Mitch provided, and Harry thought back to when Mitch had tried to stop him from entering Scott’s house.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a good listener that day,” Harry said, furrowing his eyebrows. “My stakes were kind of high.”

They laughed easily as Harry laid out his towel, sitting with his knees to his chest, shoulder-to-shoulder with Scott’s best friend. He was a bit nervous. He was terrified that Mitch was still holding resentment. He knew that if this was going to work with Scott, he needed Mitch to be in his corner. Mitch hugged his own sweater to his chest as the breeze picked up.

“Seems like your stakes are getting higher by the day,” Mitch stated. Harry nodded, slowly.

“They are,” he answered, simply, looking out at the ocean.

“I’ve never seen him like this, you know,” Mitch said, softly.

“Like what?”

“Like… this. Crazy?” Mitch replied with his signature sassiness. Harry laughed.

“He isn’t crazy,” Harry replied, smiling.

“He is about you.” And with that, Harry’s heart was fluttering.

“The feeling is most definitely mutual, then.”

“It’d better be.” Mitch’s tone was serious. Harry could feel the love for Scott radiating off of Mitch’s body. He was surprised that he felt not even an ounce of jealousy when he was in Mitch’s presence, knowing that there was no one on this earth who knew Scott better than this man.

They spoke infrequently, at first, each one trying to break the ice. Harry couldn’t figure out why he felt so damn _nervous._ They finally hit their stride in the conversation, speaking easily about the music business and how difficult it was to find genuine people.

“Tell me about how you met,” Harry asked. He watched as Mitch smiled, fondly.

“We were like… ten,” Mitch began. Harry nodded, remembering that fact from Kirstie. “We were in our community theater production of ‘Willy Wonka,’” Mitch laughed. “Scott was Charlie, naturally.”

“And you just hit it off and became the two best friends that anyone could have?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really. Scott claims to this day that the second he saw me he wanted to be my friend. But that’s just how Scott is. Wants to build everyone up all the time, you know? No, in reality, we weren’t really close until high school. We were both closeted until pretty late… believe it or not.” Mitch gestured to himself, with a cocked eyebrow. They paused to laugh at this. “Did you know that we both dated Kirstie?”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “Get out.”

“Nope. We continue to make fun of her to this day, but she’s no fun about it because it doesn’t phase her. She continues to say that she would marry either of us in an instant.”

“She’s got good taste. In both of you.” Harry didn’t miss the slight flush of the smaller man’s cheeks.

“We also dated each other.” Mitch said, slowly.

“What happened?” Harry could tell that Mitch was surprised that his reaction was this calm, but he had been pretty sure that this must have been the case.

“I got scared… very quickly. We were so young. I broke it off pretty much before it even left the ground. We hooked up, like, one time. Then I got cold feet. It almost ruined us. After that, we refused to ever go down that road again.”

“Your bond is beyond that, I think,” Harry pondered out loud. Mitch nodded.

“Brothers,” Mitch replied. “Brothers who cuddle.”

“Ugh, he’s a _fantastic_ cuddler.” Harry said. Mitch nodded again, more enthusiastically.

“The best around,” and they laughed. Harry was surprised that this conversation was going as well as it was.

“I’m sorry, Mitch.”

“What for? Are you gonna tell me I can’t cuddle him anymore?” Mitch pouted. Harry smiled, trying to contain his laughter, before he continued.

“I hurt him so badly. You must hate me.”

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t be here, Harry.”

“How could you not?”

“Oh, sweetie. You have no idea.” Harry looked back at him, blankly. “Do you even know why Scott came to your house the day after the awards?”

Harry paused, as though he was searching the ocean for the answer to this.

“He didn’t tell you that I pretty much _made him?”_

Harry’s chest felt warm. Mitch had his back? Mitch wanted Scott to be with him?

“I pretty much force-fed the video of your performance to him. I told him that there was no way that he had the whole story. There was no way that you could have willingly made that mistake and then been so broken up over it. I made him watch the whole thing… and then I basically pushed him out the front door to go to you.” Mitch was smiling, and Harry wanted to tackle him to the ground in a bone-crushing hug.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you go to bat for me? Why wouldn’t you want him to get over me? To move on?”

“Because you’re what’s best for him. I could tell from the day you two met.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He smiles differently with you.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Harry knew Mitch was just trying to build him up, the way he had accused Scott of doing just a little while ago.

“He does. Let me tell you, honey, I am the expert in analyzing the emotions of one Scott Richard Hoying”

Suddenly, Harry’s heart felt like it was doing somersaults in his chest cavity. 


	20. Tours and Tweets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff for you all today :)

Despite the fact that both he and Harry were touring the United States for the next three months, by some sick twist of fate, there was not one single date in which they would be within four states of one another.

That really sucked, when they figured that out.

They were one month in, and they hadn’t been able to see each other once.

“Maybe you can come to Georgia for your night off on Tuesday?” Harry asked into the camera, making puppy dog eyes. Scott laughed gently.

“I’ll do my best, babe. How was your show last night?”

Scott watched with adoration as Harry launched into a long-winded story of the coolest fan he had ever met, who had drawn this amazing picture, blah blah blah. He lost track of the story, focusing instead on how cute Harry was when he was passionate about something. His heart fluttered, however, when Harry held up the picture.

Someone had drawn the picture of them from outside of Sur on their first date. And someone had done a damn good job of it.

“That’s sweet. I’m surprised I haven’t received too many death threats yet.”

Harry’s face turned stony. “What do you mean, too many?”

Scott’s face broke into a smile. He didn’t want to joke about this if Harry was going to be upset. “I’m just kidding, Haz. No death threats… yet. Your fans have actually been pretty nice.”

“I’ve received one, that I know of.” Harry replied after a moment.

“You’re kidding.” Scott was confused. His fans were typically supportive.

“Yeah, no… it was some guy. He was pretty mad about… Kendall. Said I didn’t deserve you, that he didn’t know what you see in me. Said I should leave you alone, or better yet, kill myself.”

Scott’s mouth fell open in shock. “That’s… Harry, that’s horrible.”

“Comes with the territory, I suppose. There will always be a dick in the mix.”

Scott began poking at his phone screen. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Am I boring you?” he asked, lightly.

“I’m tweeting, hang on.”

“Scott, don’t.”

“Don’t tell me, ‘don’t’,” Scott countered, sticking out his tongue. Harry laughed, fondly.

****_Thank you to 99% of our fans who have embraced my relationship with open arms, and who are truly happy for me. To the other 1%, we don’t need you anyway! #ImInLove #DealWithIt_ ** **

“Done.”

Harry laughed. “I hope you weren’t too much of a savage.”

“Read it.”

Scott watched with bated breath as Harry began to tap at his screen, a small smile gracing his features. Harry’s smile faltered for a moment, and promptly turned into a frown.

“What? I was nice enough.”

“Scott…”

“Yes?” Scott _really_ wasn’t breathing.

“The hashtag.”

Scott clenched his eyes shut. In the moment he had thought it was cute. Maybe he should have asked before coming off like a complete psycho.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

“…You are?” Scott opened his eyes, slowly.

“I wanted to tell you… differently.”

“Oops,” Scott replied, grimacing. Harry was laughing adorably now.

“I guess this is just today’s version of shouting it from the rooftops, eh?”

“Exactly,” Scott smiled, proudly.

A notification flashed across the top of his screen. “You tweeted back?” he asked, poking it.

****_@ScottHoying Do I need to beat someone up? Who is this person you’re in love with? Oh wait, it’s me! And guess what? I’m madly in love with you. #DealWithIt_ ** **

Scott couldn’t prevent the smile or the blush that spread across his face like wildfire. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“That’s you, beautiful. Come to Georgia?”

“I’ll do everything I can to be there.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

Scott slept amazingly well that night.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Haz. They just said it wasn’t possible. We have too much to do to set up for the next few shows. We’ve been messing up on a few of the songs, so they’re drilling us relentlessly now.” Scott lied smoothly into the phone, wheeling his suitcase through the airport.

“I might actually die if I don’t get my hands on you soon,” Harry groaned. Scott fought back a moan of his own at the thought. “This was our best shot at seeing each other for a while, I think. This day off for you was sort of key.” Harry added, sadly.

“I know, babe. I’m so sorry. I never stop thinking of you, though.”

“Me neither. I’ll call you later, my love.”

“Bye, baby.” Scott hung up the phone and hailed the nearest taxi from Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport, smirking to himself.

“He’s going to kill me for letting you do this,” Harry’s tour manager, Sierra, muttered as she led Scott down the long hallway. “If you give him a heart attack, I will personally gut you. Then I’ll feed you to the crew. Understood?” Scott nodded slowly. He had met Sierra a few times, but he had never been so afraid of someone as he was in this moment.

She swiped her key in Harry’s door, opening it up for Scott. She held out her arms before he could enter.

“I’m so happy to see you, Scott,” she said as Scott embraced her.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Scott replied before letting go.

“Oh, and if he can’t walk for his show tonight? That will also put you on my shit list.” She glared before sauntering away.

Ah, shit. He hadn’t thought of that.

He knew he didn’t have much time before Harry came back to his hotel room. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to walk in to find him standing in the middle of the room, looking overwhelmed.

It was time to get going. He removed his phone from his back pocket, thinking for a moment before typing frantically.

****_Scott Hoying: Can’t stop thinking about you._ ** **

That was a good start. He watched as the ellipses flashed on the screen within moments, and his heart fluttered at the idea that Harry was responding so quickly.

****_Harry Styles: Me neither, gorgeous. You never leave my mind._ ** **

****_Scott Hoying: What are you thinking about?_ ** **

****_Harry Styles: Things that are NSFW_ ** **

Scott laughed. That was what he was looking for.

****_Scott Hoying: What a coincidence, me too._ ** **

****_Harry Styles: I need my mouth on you. Need yours on me._ ** **

****_Scott Hoying: Maybe it’s for the best that I’m not there. I don’t think you’d be able to walk._ ** **

****_Harry Styles: It would be well worth the risk sexy_ ** **

****_Scott Hoying: When you think of me, do you touch yourself?_ ** **

****_Harry Styles: Mr. Hoying, that is very forward_ ** **

Scott snickered. This was fun. He watched the ellipses form at the bottom of the screen again.

****_Harry Styles: I may or may not have screamed your name last night, laying alone in my hotel room, picturing your hands all over me_ ** **

****_Scott Hoying: It would be more than my hands, beautiful._ ** **

****_Harry Styles: Ugh, why am I in public right now?_ ** **

****_Scott Hoying: Maybe you should get back to your room so we can continue this… more privately._ ** **

****_Harry Styles: Phone sex? You don’t have to tell me twice… on my way._ ** **

Scott laughed as Harry sent one last devil emoji. He kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable.


	21. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't give you fluff without giving you some smut right after. Also, be forewarned, it's been too long since Scott has suffered a bit in this story... so next chapter, I have to change that.

Harry tucked his phone into his back pocket and made his way out of rehearsal, trying to avoid conversations and any interruptions at all, really. He had never been so turned on by text messages before, and if his boyfriend was willing to… relieve him… from 1,000 miles away, Harry wanted to take advantage of that.

His trip back to the hotel was surprisingly uneventful. He only had to stop three times for pictures with fans. He nearly jogged down the hallway, unsure if he could contain this any longer. He had to hear that voice again. He prayed that Scott would let him see him, too.

The door closed with a slam, and Harry paused. The lights were off, and the curtains were drawn, but there was a dim glow from around the corner. His heart began to race. There was no way…

He rounded the corner to find the most impressive surprise he had ever received.

“How…?” Harry simply asked the man in his bed, who was laying beneath covers that just barely covered him from the waist down, revealing the bare skin of his abdomen. Harry stopped himself from launching himself at the sight.

“Yeah, I’m off today,” Scott replied, smirking.

“You’re a jerk,” Harry’s eyes narrowed, playfully.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Scott replied, lazily, running a hand through his hair and looking Harry up and down a few times, biting his lip.

That was enough of that.

Harry was on top of him within the amount of time it took Scott to take a deep breath. He connected their lips in a needy kiss, groaning as his lips made contact with something they had missed so much. He cupped Scott’s face in his hands, running his fingers over the stubble of his beard.

He did not for one second forget that Scott was completely naked beneath him. His dick twitched as he thought about this fact. He laughed lightly as he felt hands pawing at his own clothing.

“Can we even this out a bit?” Scott asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry replied, and disappeared beneath the comforter without another word.

Harry blew softly on the tip of Scott’s cock as he positioned himself below the blanket. Eliciting a sharp intake of breath, Harry smirked.

“This is not… fair… fuck.” Scott whined as Harry took him into his mouth. “This was _not_ the plan _, Harold,”_

Harry bobbed up and down, attempting to take as much of Scott into his mouth as possible. This was a difficult task, but Harry felt a sense of pride when he was able to take nearly all of it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t… ugh…” Scott’s words came out broken and desperate, and Harry adored it.

“Harry, wait.”

Harry crawled up the man’s torso, emerging from beneath the covers to make concerned eye contact.

“You have to sing in like, three hours,” Scott argued, breathlessly.

“Hmm…” Harry replied, pulling on Scott’s cock as he sat up. He could listen to this man moan and whimper on a loop for the rest of his life. “I guess you’re right. Any ideas?”

“Yeah, you can take these _damn clothes off.”_ Scott replied, pouting and reaching for the shorter man.

Harry stood up, ignoring Scott’s grabby-hand motion. ( _How could he be so damn cute and sexy at the same time_?) He removed each piece of his own clothing at a torturingly slow speed. He wasn’t even really sure why he was doing this, as it was just as painful for him as it was for the blond.

He looked up, and his eyes immediately narrowed when he saw what Scott was doing.

“Absolutely not. No touching yourself, yet. Stop that.”

“Make me,” Scott replied, tugging and twisting himself with one hand while the other rested behind his head, casually.

_Fuck, this man is so hot, it’s abnormal._

Harry removed the last of his clothing and aggressively straddled his disobedient boyfriend, groaning as their groins made contact with one another. He reached to the end table, and pulled out what he needed. Scott raised an eyebrow.

“How do I feel about the fact that you had that ready to go in your hotel room?”

“You forget,” Harry started, pausing to place a kiss on Scott’s throat. “that I had every intention of sharing this room with you tonight from the get-go.” He ripped he condom wrapper open with his teeth and slipped it on to Scott’s cock. Scott bucked into Harry’s hand as he did this, and Harry smirked.

“Eager.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

Harry suddenly found himself lost in the thought that this man was so ready for him. His head became fuzzy as he looked down at the man below him, staring into his eyes with so much lust it looked like it hurt.

Harry knew exactly how he felt.

He coated the condom in a thick layer of lube, as well as two of his own fingers. Scott reached out for the bottle, but pouted when Harry let it fall to the floor. Scott’s eyes looked like they were lit on fire when Harry reached behind himself, opening himself up.

Harry had let Scott take too much control these past few times. It was time to show him that he wasn’t always allowed to be.

Scott groaned in frustration, and ran his fingers over the tip of his own dick, coating them in the lube that waited there. He reached behind Harry after a minute, clearly becoming impatient with Harry’s process. Harry’s fingers were quickly accompanied by two additional, bigger ones. They stretched him to the point where he felt like he might split in half, and it felt incredible.

He removed his own fingers, bracing himself by placing his hands on either side of his boyfriend’s head.

“Out,” Harry grunted. Surprisingly, Scott complied. Harry lowered himself down against Scott’s groin, and thought he might cry with how good it felt to have him inside of him again.

Scott began to buck upwards into him. Harry was left breathless as he bounced up and down against him. He was surprised when Scott’s hands suddenly wrapped around the back of his legs, and he stood with Harry still wrapped around his waist.

Harry’s back hit the wall with a thud, but he didn’t miss the fact that Scott’s hand had come up to protect the back of his head from hitting the wall as well.

His heart might explode.

Or maybe his entire body would self-destruct.

Because he was being railed into oblivion and gravity was proving to be a _very nice thing,_ and so were the muscular arms that were holding him in place.

Lips were attacking his neck, and he couldn’t help but claw helplessly at the body that was holding him up.

He might actually pass out, he realized as he began to see stars. Scott was hitting against him in just the right way, making him dizzy.

He wondered how Scott could even maneuver this. He wasn’t that much bigger than Harry, but he was throwing him around like a ragdoll.

God, was it hot.

And how did he manage to free a hand, again? This time it reached between them to grab onto Harry’s cock as it pulled on him rhythmically to his thrusts. Harry, on the other hand, could do nothing more than latch on to Scott’s shoulders with his hands for dear life, like a Koala in a mother-fucking ­ _earthquake._

“Scott… baby… yes… please…”

“Go ahead, babe,” Scott grunted.

“You first,” Harry weakly argued. Scott laughed.

“You’re so stubborn.” Scott smirked and quickened his pace. Then, Harry felt Scott’s stomach muscles tighten as he crashed into his prostate a few more times, moaning.

That was all Harry needed to hear. He bit down on Scott’s shoulder, allowing his finish to take over. His body trembled with what was possibly the strongest orgasm he had ever had. He prayed that Scott wouldn’t put him down, because he wasn’t sure that he could support himself.

He was thankful when Scott pushed them off of the wall, and tenderly laid him down on the bed.

Harry was mesmerized by how quickly Scott could go from being so dominant to so very caring within moments. He was beautiful. Harry blinked away tears.

“Shit. Did I hurt you?” Scott’s voice was full of concern as he cradled Harry’s face in his hands, leaning over him, protectively.

“No, no.” Harry shook his head frantically.

“Why are you crying, gorgeous?” Scott asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead. The tenderness of the action made Harry lose it even more. Harry could tell that Scott was worried, now.

“I fucking love you,” Harry whispered, and pulled the taller man down into a kiss.


	22. Down a Dark Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I couldn't go too long without a bit of drama. Let me know what you think!

Scott had never felt so out-of-place in his 28 years of life. He probably should have considered the fact that coming to see Harry on tour would mean that he would have to attend Harry’s concert… alone.

He could have stayed in the hotel room, he supposed, but he wanted to show support… and the view here wasn’t half bad, either.

He was backstage for the first half, watching Harry strut around like the perfect human he was. Scott was happy to see that Harry was walking _just fine,_ thank you, _Sierra._ In fact, he was doing better than fine. He was moving in his sexy way that was downright unfair to watch without being allowed to touch.

If only Scott could see the whole show. His view from backstage was obstructed, at best. He wanted a better vantage point. From here, he could hardly see Harry and his on-stage personality from here. Harry was intriguing on stage. Besides the fact that he wanted to watch for his own personal reasons, he also wanted to take note so he could improve his own stage presence.

Maybe going into the audience, just for a bit, wasn’t a terrible idea.

So, Scott turned his snapback around on his head so it concealed more of his face, and grabbed his zip-up hoodie from a chair close-by. He could be incognito. After all, he wasn’t that famous.

_Right?_

Wrong. So very wrong.

He should have known it was a horrible idea when he ran it by Sierra on his way out.

“Scott, maybe you should just stay here. Harry’s fans can be… a lot. And he would _kill me_ if they said something mean to you.”

But he went, anyway.

He was able to stand in the back of the pit of the audience, unnoticed, for three whole songs.

“Oh my God… it’s Scott!” a young woman squealed, in her early twenties, Scott guessed. He gave her and her friend a small smile, before raising one finger to his lips.

“Look, it’s the Christmas music guy!” a short, pig-faced man mocked, pointing at Scott. He grimaced. If he was going to be insulted, he had hoped they would come up with something better than _that._

He looked at the man’s group of friends’ features as he posed for a picture with the first two girls, acting as though he wasn’t phased by their looming presence. They looked like a bunch of frat boys. He could practically smell the stale beer radiating off of them. They were certainly not the demographic that Scott would have expected to be here.

“You guys don’t have to be dicks, you know,” the first girl spoke again. Scott placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not worth it. Don’t worry,” he said to her, as softly as he could over the music.

“Not worth it? We aren’t _worth it?”_ one of the taller members of the group stepped forward. “Are _you_ worth it, Mr. Christmas music?” He poked Scott in the shoulder. More people were starting to turn towards them at this point. This was the last thing Scott wanted. Causing a scene at Harry’s concert was certainly not what he had in mind.

He turned to the two girls, smiled softly, and said, “It was very nice to meet you,” before turning to return into the hallway of the venue. He was determined to get backstage again before he messed up too badly.

This plan was backfiring awfully quickly, when a security guard placed a hand on his chest.

“No one’s allowed this way. And before you tell me some dumb story, I don’t care who you are.” He stared coldly into Scott’s eyes.

_Okay, plan B._

The air was humid as he opened the doors to the venue in an attempt to get to the stage door down the back alley. It was the way he had come in the first time, so this was his best chance. If this didn’t work, he would have to simply wait at the hotel. He didn’t want to do that to Harry. He knew that Harry wanted him there.

Two large arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms against his sides and clutching him against a wall of muscle behind him. He heard an uproar of laughter as he fought to break free.

“Mr. Christmas has some fight in him!” a voice nearly growled from behind both of them.

He broke free from the grasp and his hand connected instantly with the man’s cheek, the sound of the skin-on-skin contact echoing down the empty alleyway.

He turned to run, but somehow, the men seemed to multiply. Two were now facing him.

“What the _hell_ do you want, anyway?” Scott asked, proud of how clearly his voice cut through the thick air. It didn’t waver.

“You’re a faggot, right?” The tallest of the men was approaching him, now. Scott’s heart felt like it might leap out of his throat and onto the pavement in front of them.

“Sorry, _bro_. Not interested,” Scott scowled, backing away. He realized that this was in vain, however, when he felt two more men breathing down his back, blocking his way back to the main road. “None of you are really my type…”

A foot connected with the back of his knee, knocking him down to land heavily on his knees.

Scott let out a laugh, despite the pain ringing through his leg. “What the hell are you doing at a Harry Styles concert if you hate us, anyway?” he laughed. He refused to show them any sign of weakness.

_Okay, Scott, maybe you’re being a bit too bold._

A fist connected with his jaw, causing stars to leap across his frame of vision.

_Yup. Too bold._

Scott could feel the blood fill his mouth quickly. He didn’t have time for another snide remark, however, because the men had begun to let loose.

Fists came crashing down against his ribs, his shoulders, his legs… everywhere.

_Fuck, this is how I die? I had hoped it would be something a bit more poetic than assault by homophobic frat boys._

They ripped his hat off of his head, throwing it haphazardly against the brick wall behind them.

_Dammit. I liked that hat._

Then they tore his sweatshirt right along the zipper, leaving him in his thin, black t-shirt. Fists continued to rain down on his now-exposed arms, and they were scratching at his skin now, too.

_Like a bunch of cats… I… miss Wyatt. He was a good cat. Shit. Concentrate, Scott. You’re dying. Get with it._

Another fist connected with his jaw, followed by one directly to his nose.

_Well, there goes my face._

He heard the tearing of the fabric of his t-shirt, next _._ He was now laying on his back, staring up at the sky, as hands and feet continued to pummel against his frame in the dark alleyway.

He felt the energy leaving his body. He wondered if he was bleeding out. He couldn’t feel any particular part of himself. He just knew that there was pain. Widespread, shooting pain.

“Get the hell away from him!” a deep voice suddenly called over the laughter.

“Shit. Run!” One of the men shouted.

Then, the blows were gone. Scott was simply left with the throbbing sensation across his entire body, and the taste of metal in his mouth.

“Are you okay, sir? Sir? Look at me, please, We’re calling for help. Just stay with me, alright?” The deep voice was shaking, and it sounded very close. Scott couldn’t see him. He panicked as he realized that he couldn’t see _anything_.

_Oh, my eyes are closed. Makes sense._

He opened his eyes to see two men, One was frantically whispering into his phone, while the other one was hovering over him.

“We’re gonna get you help, okay?” the deep voice spoke again.

“Shit, yes. Yes, I think I know his name,” he farther man spoke frantically into the phone, his eyes wide as he realized. “His name is Scott Hoying.”

_Ugh… so much for incognito. Harry’s not gonna be too happy._

“No… no. Stay with me, okay? No, please… please stay awake,” the man was pleading with him. He felt a hand rest gently against his cheek.

_I’m just gonna rest my eyes, but thank you for your concern._

He tried to speak, but it seemed that he couldn’t remember how. He blinked several times before allowing his lids to stay closed, the pain overwhelming him and wracking his body as his adrenaline wore off.


	23. He Isn't Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry. Poor Scott. Poor Scarry. If any of you have any ideas regarding where you want this to go, feel free to comment!

Harry sauntered off stage at the end of his set, still buzzing from the energy of the crowd. He searched for the pair of arms that he needed, but he frowned when he realized that they were nowhere to be found. The crew didn’t seem to want to look at him.

Sierra came into view, jogging towards him and taking him by the arm. She looked… puzzled.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, not sure how else to ask approximately 23 questions at once.

“Sure,” Sierra breathed out, leading Harry down the hallway to his dressing room.

“Where’s Scott?” Harry asked, trying to make his voice sound light. He fooled nobody, as his voice emerged sounding shaky.

“He’s um… he’s in your dressing room,” Sierra responded, softly. Harry shrugged. He knew that once he saw Scott, he would feel better regardless of how everyone else was acting. He just needed those arms.

Harry opened the door and scanned the room. “He isn’t here, Sierra,” he said, simply.

“Sit down.”

Harry froze in place. His body was refusing to comply with the direction. A hand rested gently on his lower back and led him to a couch, and Sierra gently pushed him to be seated before sitting next to him, taking his hand into both of hers.

Harry realized only in that moment that she looked as though she might cry.

“Where’s Scott, Sierra?” Harry asked again, his voice abnormally calm.

“Harry… Scott… Scott wanted to go into the audience earlier. Did you see him out there?” She attempted to smile at him, but it was watery and uneven. Harry shook his head.

“He… didn’t come back right away. Apparently, he had some trouble getting backstage again.” Harry felt himself take his first breath of the conversation.

 _I_ t’s okay. He couldn’t get backstage, so he went back to the hotel and he is waiting for you there.

“He… went outside, to come in the side door,” Sierra’s eyes were suddenly unfocused, like she was trying not to think about what she was saying.

“ _Where is Scott_?”

And with the third utterance of that question, Sierra allowed a single tear to escape her eye. She raised her hand to clasp over her mouth.

“He’s in the hospital, Harry.”

Harry could hear his heart pounding in his own head.

“Why?” It came out as barely a whisper.

“He got… jumped…” she whispered back.

Harry sprung to his feet immediately. “Text me the address.” And with that, he left her there.

“Jumped” kept flooding Harry’s brain. That could mean anything. Scott could have been beaten, mugged… _stabbed, shot… raped…_

Harry rubbed his hands together compulsively as he sat in the empty waiting room, alone.

“Mr. Styles.” Harry’s tear-filled eyes met those of an older looking doctor. He looked kind, and somehow that provided Harry with a bit of comfort. Harry stood, slowly, trying to read the other man’s expression.

“Your friend is pretty impressive,” the doctor mused, and Harry flinched at the word “friend”. The doctor overlooked this, however, and continued. “The witness who called in reported that there were at least five men involved. It’s a miracle that this didn’t end fatally…”

“What happened?” Harry asked, robotically. The man’s eyes softened further with realization.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you had been in the dark. Your friend was the victim of some pretty… intense… physical violence from what seems to be five young men who attended your concert this evening.” Harry tried to ignore the fact that these people had attended his concert. That was too much for him.

“Physical violence…?” Harry asked, blinking slowly.

“They beat him pretty badly…” the doctor’s shoulders slumped slightly, as though this was hard for him to say. “Mr. Hoying has some internal injuries that we are monitoring. We’ve taken him in for some scans, some x-rays, and we should have more information for you tomorrow.” The doctor nodded as he spoke, as though he was nonverbally encouraging Harry to go home for the night.

“Can I see him?”

“Mr. Styles… he isn’t conscious.”

“I didn’t ask if he could see me. I asked if I could see _him_.” Harry’s voice was raised an octave. The man’s eyes softened further, their thoughts interrupted when Sierra burst through the doors. Harry was relieved to see her. She might be the only one who could hold him together.

“Any news?” Her phone was pressed to her ear and her eyes were glazed over, as though she was on autopilot. “I have Mitch on the phone…” and Harry ripped the phone from her.

“Mitch?” Harry’s voice cracked.

“Harry… tell me he’s alright.” Mitch’s voice was quiet, nearly a whisper.

“He’s… he’s alright… I think…” Harry nearly sobbed, looking to the doctor for nonverbal confirmation. The doctor nodded his head, slowly. “I’m so sorry, Mitch… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“We’re on our way…” Mitch whispered, and the phone clicked as the call was ended.

Harry didn’t know when or how he had fallen asleep, but he woke hours later, still in the waiting room with those god-forsaken ugly rust-colored walls, as someone lightly shook him awake.

“Kirstie,” Harry breathed, jumping up to embrace her. He turned to each of them, wrapping them in his arms, attempting to convey how sorry he was with his actions.

“Can we see him?” Kevin asked. Harry paused to look at each of them. Their eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Harry hated everything about this stupid night. His guilt was making him nauseous.

“They won’t let me in,” Harry replied, softly.

“What the hell happened?” Mitch asked as they each sat down.

Sierra spoke up, knowing that Harry didn’t have it in him to relay this story. “Scott went to watch Harry’s show from the audience. When he went to return backstage, he had to go outside to do so. Apparently, some guys who were at the show followed him out. When Scott went down the alley, they followed him. Two guys were walking by and saw them… beating him. He was just… laying there. They were shouting… ugly things at him and laughing. They were spooked and ran off when the two men shouted at them. One of the guys who found him said he was still conscious for a minute or two, but that he couldn’t stay awake. They said it took them a minute to realize who he was, because his face was already bruising and cut up…”

Harry watched as Kevin grabbed Mitch’s hand, clearly trying to ground him as Mitch’s eyes clenched shut.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry mumbled, attempting to keep it together.

“For what? You couldn’t have known that was going to happen,” Matt countered, sadly.

“It’s my fault. I made him come here. I made him come to the show, I went public about us, and I left him alone…” Harry placed his face in his hands as he continued to ramble. Kirstie began rubbing circles on his back. This wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t deserve her comfort.

“Scott was stupid to be walking around your show by himself,” Matt said again, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mitch growled, his eyes still closed, catching Harry off-guard.

“It’s true. He knows that you have fans who border on obsessive.”

“So what, he was _asking_ for this to happen?” Mitch’s voice was raised.

“No, but he’s always thought he’s indestructible…” Matt was backing down now, clearly afraid of the smaller man.

 _Don’t insult Scott Hoying in front of Mitch Grassi,_ Harry thought.

The sun was starting to rise as the doctor emerged again. Not one of them had slept since the group had arrived. They mostly sat in tense silence. Harry was thankful for each of them as he tried to keep himself together, running through horrible possibilities of what Scott had experienced.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone friendly and reassuring. Harry was on his feet in an instant. “I wanted to let you know as soon as I was allowed… Mr. Hoying is doing just fine.” Harry nearly wept. “His injuries are mostly superficial… he looks worse than he is, in other words.” Harry glanced at Scott’s friends as they nodded in understanding. “He has some strong bones!” They laughed politely at that. “We were worried about internal bleeding, swelling of his organs, things like that. For the most part, however, we see that none of that has happened. He has some severely bruised ribs, but no fractures. He does also have a concussion. But the good news is… he’s awake. And I can take you in to see him, one at a time.”

It was an unspoken understanding that Harry would go first. He followed the kind doctor down a long hallway, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. The door opened and he was suddenly unable to move any farther.

“Come on in, Harry,” the doctor reassured him.

He felt like he was walking in quicksand as he tried to comply. He attempted to compose himself, not wanting to let Scott see him so upset.

That plan backfired as soon as he laid eyes on him.

His beautiful boyfriend looked like his face had been painted with blue, purple and red watercolors. His cheekbone was riddled with tiny stitches across his perfect skin. He was laying on his back, looking as though moving, even an inch, was impossible. Harry closed the distance as quickly as possible.

His eyes were still that stunning shade of blue. That was all Harry needed to see. And they were looking at him softly, adoringly. Harry leaned over and pressed the lightest of kisses to Scott’s forehead, afraid to do more than that.

“I’m sorry, Haz.” His voice was low and crackly, like this was the first time he was using it. That didn’t concern Harry as much as the words themselves.

“What on earth are you sorry for?” Harry whispered, running his thumb up and down Scott’s bruised jaw, as lightly as possible.

“I was stupid,” he grumbled, wincing at the painful movement of his mouth to form the words.

“Don’t say that, please?” Harry’s voice was hardly audible with his plea. Scott simply looked back at him. “This is bad enough… I can’t have you beating yourself up about it as well.”

Scott attempted to smile, but winced again. Harry lightly touched the hand that was resting on his chest. He was relieved when Scott grasped it.

“I’m okay, Harry. I promise.”

“Thank God for that.”

“Is this… public knowledge?” Scott nearly whispered, trying to avoid the pain of speaking, but clearly failing.

“I don’t think so,” Harry shook his head.

“Maybe we can get away with them never finding out,” Scott sounded hopeful, and Harry’s heart broke.

“Don’t worry about that right now, my love,” Harry said, squeezing his hand more tightly.

Harry knew that this wasn’t possible. He knew it was only a matter of time before this was an outright war, and he knew how ruthless his fans could be. 


	24. Worth It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some worried Harry for you, again!

Harry and Scott had postponed their next three shows. Scott’s reasoning was medical necessity. Harry’s was simple: worry.

The fact that he got to spend some extra time with Scott as he recovered was certainly helping Harry to cope with the stress he was currently under.

Much to Scott’s dismay, however, the news regarding why the shows were postponed broke on TMZ yesterday.

Harry looked down at his boyfriend, who was asleep on his back, wincing in his sleep every few minutes. Harry opened Instagram with a sigh. He opened up his notes app on his phone and began typing.

What happened at my show in Atlanta on Tuesday was entirely unforgivable. To think that there are people in this world who can call themselves my fans, and yet turn around and so savagely hurt someone who means so much to me is extremely unsettling. I’ve never been so ashamed. Please, lift each other up. Be the best versions of yourselves. And please, PLEASE show respect for me and for @ScottHoying.

Harry read it once, took a snapshot, and posted it to his account. He watched as comments of support flooded his feed.

****_I hope Scott is okay!_ ** **

****_We’re sorry your fans disappointed you Harry!_ ** **

****_I love you 2 together._ ** **

Harry smiled to himself, continuing to scroll through the loving comments. His brow furrowed when he found a few that weren’t so supportive.

****_Ugh. @ScottHoying is not nearly hot enough for @HarryStyles._ ** **

****_Harry deserves better than @ScottAnnoying_ ** **

****_Thanks to the guys who beat the shit out of @ScottHoying. Next time call me to help!_ ** **

Harry could feel his blood boiling. They were few and far between, but they were the only ones Harry found himself looking at. He could feel his skin becoming hot as he mentally urged himself not to hastily reply.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Scott’s voice grumbled next to him. Harry looked down into Scott’s clear blue eyes, trying to ignore the bruises surrounding them.

“People suck.”

“That, they do. But most people don’t, so there’s that,” Scott muttered as he attempted to sit up. He groaned, clearly giving up after a moment.

Harry reached out to assist, but paused when there was an obnoxious knock on the hotel room door. He walked quickly to answer, looking through the peephole first. He laughed when he saw who was on the other side.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Harry asked, unable to contain his smile upon seeing his best friends. They each wrapped him in a quick hug before Louis rushed past him.

“Enough of that, where’s the patient?” Louis called out, but stopped short when he laid his eyes on the bruised form on the bed. “Oh, God, you poor thing.”

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” Scott asked sarcastically, grabbing his side as he shifted into a seated position.

Liam approached him first, reaching out to hug him as lightly as possible.

“Our fans are absolutely mental sometimes, Scott. I’m so sorry you had to find out that way,” Niall said.

“Yeah, evidently. They’re a bit different than ours, that’s for sure.”

“So what are you guys gonna do about the twitter war?” Liam asked, his eyes darting between Harry and Scott.

Scott found Harry’s gaze, and they silently articulated a “what the fuck” kind of moment.

“You didn’t know…?” Niall started. “#HoyingVsStyles is trending.”

Scott leaned forward to place his face in his hands, exasperatedly.

“What are they saying?” Harry asked as he opened twitter.

“Basically, it’s all of our fans and Scott’s fans going at it. They’ve all come to the conclusion that one of you doesn’t deserve the other, but the disagreement lies in terms of who doesn’t deserve whom.” Louis added, rubbing his chin.

“Great.” Harry replied, typing out a tweet.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, standing up, slowly. He flinched, and Liam was by his side, as though ready to catch him, immediately.

“Telling my fans to knock it off before I lose my damn mind.” Harry responded, robotically as he focused on writing his message. He looked up in confusion as Scott’s bruised knuckles came into view as he placed his hand over the phone, grabbing it, gently.

“Don’t. Calling attention to it will only make it worse. We should just… be quiet about it.” Scott said, sounding slightly disappointed.

“I’m not _hiding you_ ,” Harry said, his voice containing an edge to it that made Niall reach out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to hide him, Harry, but Scott’s right. If you join the fight, you’re condoning it more than you are condemning it,” Liam said.

The boys remained with them for an hour or two, before slipping out quietly after Scott had dozed off for the fourth time. They only left after Harry had agreed not to get involved in the Twitter fiasco.

That didn’t stop him from reading tweets, however.

****_@ScottHoying is better than @HarryStyles will ever be. It’s not #1Direction, it’s #1Delusion_ ** **

Harry laughed to himself at the hashtags. He didn’t mind when they were targeting him.

****_Scott should have died that night. Do us all a favor and finish the job yourself @ScottHoying_ ** **

Scott awoke with a start when Harry’s phone collided with the wall. Harry buried his face in his knees, grabbing and tugging at his hair in frustration.

_How dare they tell him to die._

Scott placed a hand on Harry’s back, tracing circles there, soothingly.

“I can’t stay quiet.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t. I can’t have them talking about hurting you.”

Scott’s hand stilled where it lay on Harry’s back. Scott shifted into a seated position, hissing as he tweaked his side a bit too much.

“Can I ask you something without you getting mad?” Scott asked, tiredly.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make you any promises,” Harry stated, truthfully.

“Should we just call it?” Scott asked. Harry could have sworn his heart had stopped beating.

“What do you mean?”

“Is this worth it for you? Is it worth being so upset?” Scott pondered, and Harry was overwhelmed by the tone of genuine concern for him in the moment.

“Worth it for me? You had the shit kicked out of you. Is it worth it for _you_?”

“Yes, but I understand if you don’t feel the same.”

Harry gaped at his boyfriend. He hated every little thing about this conversation. He grabbed both of Scott’s slightly damaged hands, lightly.

“You are worth everything. I love you. A bunch of idiots isn’t going to change that.”

“Good,” Scott smiled, softly, the relief evident in his eyes. Harry leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I have a question, though…” Harry asked, biting his lip.

“Okay…”

“If you lay on your back, like… really still… can I ride your dick?”

Scott cackled with laughter. Harry loved that sound. “We can certainly give that a try.”


	25. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left of this one! I didn't want to keep it going for so long that it became boring, so I finished Chapter 26 today and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Enjoy the chapter before the finale!

Scott strained his voice to hit the final notes of ‘Hallelujah’, and thanked Jesus Christ himself that his voice didn’t crack in the final chorus. His vocal cords screamed at him in protest of their 30th show. This was their final concert of their three-month tour. He was filled with a mixture of relief and sadness as they sang their last chord.

He was done. They could go home now. They had six weeks until they began their Christmas tour. Six weeks sounded like forever right about now, and Scott couldn’t wait.

Harry would be wrapping up his tour in one week, and he would return home as well. Scott couldn’t wait to spend some time with him, considering the fact that last time they had been close enough to touch one another, Scott wasn’t exactly in the proper state to be able to take advantage of the situation the way he had wanted to. Sure, Harry’s proposed idea of laying very still had worked, but it was actually more torturous than pleasurable for Scott, who had absolutely no control.

It had been two whole months since Scott had seen Harry after that, and he was becoming impatient.

It had been two months of Twitter wars, blocking and reporting users, ignoring others, and dodging questions from the media about their thoughts on everything.

Scott’s 29th birthday came and went, and he couldn’t spend it with his favorite person.

But most importantly, it had been two months since Scott had looked into those green eyes that took his breath away each and every time.

So here he was, one week later, sitting on the front step of Harry’s house.

No, he had no idea what time Harry was expected to be home.

No, he didn’t care.

But it was almost 9pm now, and Scott had seen that all possible flights from Chicago had arrived at least two hours ago.

This was a dumb idea, Scott thought, rubbing the back of his head and yawning. He decided to give up, and clamored into his car, sighing. He would have to settle for calling Harry when he got home. He just hoped he was okay.

His heart sank at the idea what Harry was likely back in town, doing God knows what, and hadn’t even called him yet.

Maybe they were drifting apart.

He shook the thought from his mind before he could feel the first tear prickling the back of his eyes. He pulled into his driveway 15 minutes later, feeling exhausted despite the fact that he had done nothing more than sit like a stone on his boyfriend’s step all day.

He fiddled with his keys as he approached the door, trying to think of anything else other than what Harry might be doing. He gasped when he looked up just in time before tripping over a lump of a body in front of his own front door.

Harry was hunched over, leaned up against the wall, mouth agape as he snored, lightly. A brown paper bag was at his feet: Take-out. Scott felt the side of the bag. It was ice cold.

He laughed at the irony of all of this, and crouched down to place a light kiss on his beautiful boyfriend’s forehead, cupping his cheek and stroking his jawline as he stirred.

Harry’s eyes focused on his slowly as they blinked open, and he grinned goofily as Scott came into his view.

“You have some explaining to do,” Harry teased, tiredly.

“Why’s that?” Scott asked, softly, leaning in to kiss Harry’s cheek.

“You’ve been gone all evening, mister.” Harry’s eyes narrowed teasingly.

Scott pulled Harry to his feet and unlocked his door, with Harry latched onto his body as he did so.

“Evidently we had the same idea, babe,” Scott answered, laughing slightly. Harry searched his face with a small smile on his lips. “I sat on your front step for like… 6 hours today,” Scott added, laughing openly now.

“You’re lying,” Harry said, fondly. His eyes looked like they might explode with adoration.

Scott took out his phone and opened a snapchat that he had sent to Mitch, 4 hours prior. He handed it to Harry, and Harry snorted.

The image was of Scott, pouting with Harry’s house in the background. The caption read, “I feel like a puppy waiting for my owner to come home.”

“You’re adorable,” Harry said, shaking his head and handing the phone back. Scott slipped it into his back pocket, and was immediately enveloped in his boyfriend’s arms.

“Missed you,” Harry said, his voice muffled against the crook of Scott’s neck.

“Missed you more, gorgeous.” Scott replied, knowing that this was the truth.

Harry pulled away slightly to look into Scott’s eyes. Scott’s pulse quickened. Harry would always have that effect on him.

“Not possible,” Harry replied, and connected their lips slowly and sweetly, his hands roaming through Scott’s hair, gently. The kiss became deeper and more desperate over the next few minutes, and Harry moaned softly against Scott’s lips as Scott’s hand gave his ass a light squeeze.

“Possible, and very true,” Scott muttered as he withdrew his lips from Harry’s, eliciting a whimper from the younger man. He smiled as he took Harry’s hand. “Patience, my love,” he teased, leading Harry into his bedroom.

“Fuck patience,” Harry scowled, adorably, and pushed Scott aggressively. Scott’s eyes widened as he fell backwards onto the bed. Harry was on top of him a minute later, pinning his arms above his head.

“Patience sucks,” Harry continued, licking Scott’s mouth open again, and Scott was aching for more contact.

Both shirts were thrown on the floor with a light thud. Harry looked hungrily at Scott, but his eyes softened after a moment.

“Glad you’re all healed,” Harry whispered, running his free hand up and down Scott’s waist and ribcage, looking suddenly like he might cry.

“Good to go,” Scott smiled back, knowing he could easily free his hands from Harry’s grasp, but finding that he kind of liked this.

Suddenly, Harry’s half-naked form was pressed up against Scott’s, his head resting in the crook of his neck again, as though he was going to sleep.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Scott started. “What’s this bullshit?”

Harry looked up, his eyes sparkling in a teasing manner. “Patience, my love,” he mimicked. Scott’s brow furrowed. Harry returned his face to his place nuzzled in Scott’s neck, pretending to snore.

“Fuck patience,” Scott growled, and flipped Harry onto his back in one swift motion.

“I love you,” Harry laughed.

“I love _you_ ,” Scott replied, peeling Harry’s pants off, eagerly.

The take-out remained untouched on the kitchen counter, and neither man had much sleep that night.

The next morning, Harry was asleep, snuggled up against Scott’s side, and Scott smiled at the feeling of warmth that this entailed. He was thankful to be back in his boyfriend’s arms. Harry yawned, startling Scott out of his thoughts.

“Coffee,” Harry groaned. Scott laughed.

“Yes, sir.” Scott moved to peel the other man’s arms away from his torso, but they tightened and squeezed him. “It’s gonna be kind of difficult to get you what you need if I can’t move, babe.”

“Need you.”

Scott laughed, placing a hand on each of Harry’s palms as he freed himself from his grasp.

Scott returned a few minutes later, holding two cups of coffee. Harry shot upright in the bed, reaching for the coffee like a lifeline. Scott crawled back into bed, leaning against the headboard. Harry sprawled himself out on top of him, sipping his own beverage as they sat in a comfortable silence.

“We should tour together,” Harry pondered out loud. Scott’s body stilled beneath him, knowing that this idea was crazy.

“No. We should absolutely not,” Scott answered after a moment.

Harry frowned, turning to face his boyfriend. “That’s mean,” Harry pouted.

“You know I would love to tour with you, love. You know that’s not what I mean,” Scott reasoned.

“Then what do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Can you imagine your fans and our fans all in one venue?” Scott asked. Harry stopped, clearly mulling it over for a minute.

“That’s died down a bit.”

“Yeah, because we haven’t posted anything about each other lately.”

“I want to spend time with you, though.”

“So come on the Christmas tour,” Scott answered. He had been meaning to ask, anyway.

Harry thought this over for a minute. “That sounds perfect.”

“Good. There is going to be one rule, though.”

“Shoot.”

“No going out into the audience alone,” Scott said.

“What am I, an idiot?” Harry asked. Scott gasped, dramatically.

“Rude!”


	26. I Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD I can't believe this story is over. Please let me know if you would like to see any more of Scarry Styling, or any other crossovers! :) Thanks for reading. I really enjoyed writing this one.

“Harry Styles! Harry Styles! Please, over here!” Harry smiled at a lonely looking reporter with friendly eyes. Harry always looked for neglected reporters in the crowd at these events. He knew their job was stressful enough without the pressure of not getting enough interviews.

“Hi there,” Harry greeted, warmly.

“Congratulations on your nominations tonight,” the reporter offered. Harry smiled and bowed his head, thankfully.

“Thank you. For a musician this night is just like Christmas and your birthday all wrapped up into one, so I am very excited to be here.”

“We see that you’re walking the carpet alone. Do you have something to tell us?” The reporter asked, looking slightly nervous.

“Do I have something to tell you? Oh, yes. Of course… it’s heartbreaking news, actually,” Harry answered, rubbing the back of his neck. The reporter shifted on his feet, looking sad for him already. “My boyfriend’s manager said he had to stay with his own Grammy-nominated group tonight, so my arm candy is somewhere over there,” Harry pointed towards the long line of celebrities posing for photos, laughing. The reporter’s face broke into a smile.

“So, you’re excited for him too, I’d imagine?”

“Oh, yeah. I think I’m always more excited for him than I am for myself. I love when other people acknowledge Scott’s talents.”

Harry found himself eyeing the crowd, searching for his boyfriend on the carpet for the remainder of the interview. He thanked the reporter and was ushered to begin taking photos. He stood alone, placing his hands in his pockets and trying to appear to want to be there.

The Christmas tour had gone amazingly well. Harry had attended every show, and remained backstage, like a _good listener,_ for crying out loud.

There was a small commotion and Harry could swear he could hear Scott’s name being called. He tried to continue to focus on the cameras in front of him, but he was startled when Scott was pretty much hurled in his direction by his manager. Harry reached out his arms, instinctively, and Scott laughed as he shifted in his grasp, pecking him on the cheek as the cameras flashed, and people screamed for him to “do that again!”

“Sorry, incoming,” Scott laughed, snaking an arm around Harry’s waist and smiling at the cameras.

“Haven’t I told you? Don’t ever be sorry for being close to me,” Harry replied, smiling wider before grabbing Scott’s face, kissing his lips quickly and innocently.

“I had posters of like, half of these artists on my wall when I was younger. I like to think I just always had good taste in music,” Dua Lipa announced. “Here are the nominees for Album of the Year.”

Harry smiled and grabbed Scott’s hand. Scott squeezed his fingers, and gave him a soft smile.

“And the Grammy goes to… Harry Styles!”

Harry leaned in for a kiss and stood up from his seat, feeling like he was dreaming. He allowed his feet to take him to the stage, unable to think.

“Wow. Thank you,” Harry started, and looked into the crowd for Scott. He only continued once he had found his target, making eye contact with his favorite blue ones. “I am extremely thankful for the Grammys. In fact, I owe this award show for the best year of my life. One year and one week ago, I started to get to know someone who has easily become the most important person in the world to me. That set off an incredible chain of events. Some of my best writing, performing, and living has occurred because of that. I have made countless mistakes and countless gains because of it. So, I thank you, the Grammy awards, and to Scott Hoying, for giving me the best year of my life. Here’s to many more with you, my love.” Harry held the award towards his boyfriend, took a bow, and exited the stage I order to avoid breaking down in tears.

He looked down at the award in disbelief. The icing on the cake of a perfect year. He held it to his chest one final time, before locating the table of the other trophies waiting to be engraved. He scanned the awards on the table, before locating the one he needed, with a little piece of paper, scrawled with some handwritten letters.

****_2021 Pop Duo/Group Performance: Dreams (Pentatonix)_ ** **

He smiled as he placed his award next to theirs, and prepared himself for the countless interviews he would have to do now.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt a sense of calm and comfort that had been missing since he had departed from One Direction. A void was filled where he had been feeling alone. He was truly content with the way in which he was living his life. It felt good to feel truly devoted to something, to feel so trusting and downright loved.

Harry had something to live for, someone to adore, who loved him even at his worst. He had someone honest and beautiful, who had taught him to accept this without questioning it, to accept this perfect hand that he had been dealt without worrying about it being ripped away.

Harry reached into his pocket, fidgeting with the small gold band that lay there, smirking to himself and thankful that he hadn’t lost it.

“Ready to go?” Scott asked, as the crowd slowly began to filter out of the ballroom. Harry turned to him, a nervous smile lighting up his features.

“Ready. But can we go home? I’m not feeling up to a party,” Harry replied.

“You okay?” Scott asked, cocking his head to the side with concern.

“Yeah, fine. Just want to spend the evening with you.”

Scott smiled and placed an arm around Harry’s waist.

Harry left his phone on the nightstand once they got home. It flickered and buzzed, ignored for hours, as notifications scrolled in.

****_Mitch Grassi (12:04): Well?! What did he say?!_ ** **

****_Liam Payne (12:15): You better record it._ ** **

****_Mitch Grassi (12:47): Harry Styles, answer me now._ ** **

****_Louis Tomlinson (1:03): Will it be Hoying-Styles? Styles-Hoying? Just Styles? Just Hoying? I advise against Harry Hoying. That sounds pretty awful. Scott Styles… now there’s a nice use of alliteration…_ ** **

****_Mitch Grassi (1:05): Am I gonna be a best man or what?!_ ** **

****_Kirstie Maldonado (1:12): Should we be toasting to you guys yet?_ ** **

****_Mitch Grassi (1:22): Boy, I’m gonna kill you if you leave me hanging for much longer…_ ** **

Harry rolled over in bed, reaching for the screaming device, and laughed to himself as he scrolled through his messages.

He thought for a moment, his phone resting on his chest as he pondered how to answer them. He looked down at the taller man, who was curled up to his side, sleeping soundly. He looked handsome, a slight smile still gracing his features.

Perfect, Harry thought, raising his phone above the man next to him as the soft sound of a camera shutter filled the room.

He typed in 7 names, effectively creating a group chat. Then, he pressed send.

Across town, Pentatonix opened their phones at the same time, grouping together at an afterparty. A photo of their fifth member glowed back at them, sleeping peacefully, with his hands curled up near his face.

On his finger lay a new, golden ring.

****_Harry Styles (2:03): I win._ ** **


End file.
